


The Black Hawk

by Hamlette



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dark Arts, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Headmaster Severus Snape, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Locked In, M/M, Minor Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy/Severus Snape, Multi, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Torture, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 224,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamlette/pseuds/Hamlette
Summary: Remus Lupin didn’t have the slightest idea how he had survived the Battle of Hogwarts. All he knew, was that he woke up safe and sound underneath a black duvet and apparently – cared for. What he was most shocked to find out, however, was that the battle did not take the victorious turn he had hoped it to and that he was saved by the most unexpected person to do so.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape, Remus Lupin/Severus Snape
Comments: 250
Kudos: 244





	1. The Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> No one will believe me now, but I had intended this as shorter than it grew (couldn't hurry it, though). Anyway, all chapters are divided into smaller sub-chapters with stop points for the comfort of reading. If you're a binge-reader like myself, please do take breaks!  
>  Also, wherever there's potentially triggering content there's also a tw/cw in the notes. And I promise the harsh things are wrapped in a considerable amount of fluff.  
>  As for tags, let me know if you think something's missing.  
>  At this point renouncing JKR is obligatory (and since I don't think my story does it explicitly enough - here it goes). 
> 
> It's a finished work now and whoah, I almost didn't think I'd get there. My thanks go to everyone who kept me going either by reading or by bearing with my fic-centred blabber!  
>  Also, special thanks go to @mjlplace (on tumblr, or @lupininspired on instagram) for her fanart of this fic, to see which you've got to skip to end notes (it's not too spoiler-y though). 

Remus woke up from dreamless sleep. At first he could only distinguish the smells around him. There was parchment, leather, wool, various plants, most apparent of which was sassafras, closer to him – linen and alcohol. A human presence, vaguely familiar, was detectable too. He took another conscious breath and indicated the scent of coffee.

Then, with eyelids still too heavy to open, although he felt the sun touching them and saw its brightness through them, he began listening.

Outside, steps and voices could be heard, and the billing of pigeons, inside – breathing, steady and almost restrained, but apart from it, silence interrupted by occasional rustling of pages. Suddenly there was a clatter, not loud, but distinct to Remus’ ears, of a cup against a saucer, probably.

Remus twitched and opened his eyes for a moment. What he saw, convinced him that he wasn’t fully immersed in reality yet. He quickly closed them again, but it was too late – the other man in the room had already noticed his movement and deduced that he was awake.

“Lupin. Morning,” a familiar voice spoke. “I would not say a good one, frankly, but you are alive, which is… something, I presume,” Severus Snape said, softly. “Your …woman, did not have that luck. Neither did Potter and most of the Order.”

The information hit him like a hammer. Tonks. His Tonks. And Harry too. Remus felt his chin tremble a little and quelled the tears with all his strength. _Not in front of him._ The news was horrible, yet Remus could comprehend that, he understood there would be numerous victims. Even if they were the people he loved, he still had been at least somewhat prepared. In fact, he was mostly surprised that he had survived. What he did not grasp, not in the slightest bit, was how he ended up in what seemed to be Snape’s home and why did it have to be the fallen Headmaster, the traitor, the murderer, who attended to his wounds, out of all people.

_This can’t be it. I can wake up again and by my side there will be Kingsley, or Molly. Or anyone who has not betrayed the Order, who is not… not him…_

“Your son is alive, however, in case you should care,” the Death Eater continued in a tone of complete disinterest. “From other important matters – we have lost.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Remus asked, but his voice was hoarse and barely audible.

On his right, he heard a similar clatter like earlier, so he opened his eyes to see a small white cup on a gold-decorated saucer. He reached for it, having decided he had to have the minimal trust that Snape would not poison him, if he had already made the effort to not let him die. Inside there was only water, so he took a few sips and repeated his question.

“‘We’ is the Order, even if you certainly will not believe my words on that, now. ‘We’ – the Eaters, have won,” Severus replied.

There was no way of telling whether he was satisfied or mad at that turn of events. He definitely was right on how Remus would have a hard time believing he wasn’t a traitor after all. His manner and house did not betray any signs of having to hide and Remus couldn’t smell fear, which made it was safe to assume that Severus Snape, the-allegedly-double-spy, had not been discovered. _Or more simply – he was never a double spy. Only a particularly talented conman, who fooled Albus Dumbledore._

Remus put the cup away and looked to the corner of the room, where, in front of the tall bookcases by the empty fireplace, stood a black, leather-padded armchair. In it – Severus Snape was sitting, an open newspaper laying on his black robes. His face had gotten gaunter than Remus remembered it and had a certain constantly exhausted look to it. His onyx eyes were fixed in his _guest? patient? victim?_ that Remus was.

“What happened to the rest?” Remus inquired, trying to lift himself up in the bed.

“I believe I have covered the most important fates, already, but if you need it repeated Lupin...” Severus exhaled loudly. “Tonks is dead, Edward is alive, Potter is dead. The Dark Lord has won, and may he reign long,” he said with what Remus wished to be sarcasm, but wasn’t entirely sure in his judgment. “The Weasleys I’m not certain, I think one of the twins died and the young couple did, as well, William and Fleur, if I recall correctly. Oh, and Arthur, him too. Lucius could not help himself, I presume. Quite a few students, mainly from those who Minerva tried to evacuate. Kingsley, Filius…” He rubbed his temples. “Well, I can further update you when I am in Hogwarts. The list of found bodies should be there somewhere, with the elves, provided the siblings will leave anything of them alive.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Those who escaped, of course, went into hiding. And we – this time we, the Eaters,” he specified with a crooked, thin-lipped grin, “have not hunted any successfully since. Dolohov is in charge of that, so I cannot say that comes as a surprise. Besides, if they are not completely brainless, they are already on the continent.” Severus paused again, surveying his reaction.

_Voldemort has won and almost everyone dear to me is either dead or in hiding. And he has the fucking audacity to smirk while telling me about it._

Remus wondered if he looked as defeated as he felt, but his brain seemed to have been revved up like an overheating engine. Soon, his expression changed back into one that wasn’t annoyed or woeful enough in Snape’s eyes, since he then added, spitefully, “From your other, equally dear friends – Wormtail is dead. He betrayed again, according to what I have been told, and the Lord does not forgive. Unlike some lesser fools.”

“I thought you, of all people, would not have a problem with traitors,” Remus blurted out fiercely, feeling the blood travelling to his cheeks.

Another tight-lipped smile curved Severus’ lips. “Oh, have you?” He took another sip, but his left hand dived into the folds of his robe for a wand. “Well, Lupin, since you are already forgetting yourself—“ He paused to glare at Remus, but he met his eyes, as angered as he. “—then maybe you should read this.” The newspaper, which Severus had in his lap, flew to the bed without him even taking out the wand. Therefore, Remus assumed his gesture from before was just an instinctive one of annoyance.

It was the Prophet, expectedly. The paper was nothing like it used to be before the take-over of the Ministry and maybe even scarier than after it, with a small Dark Mark in the upper left corner. The snake writhed and hissed soundlessly at Lupin while he examined it.

The first page shouted, in humongous lettering, “ _NO MORE MONSTERS IN THE WIZARDING WORLD!”_. Below, there was a photograph of a woman he recognized from the group that he had been forced to join momentarily as a spy. A werewolf. She bared her teeth to the camera, gulped from a bottle she was given by someone outside the frame, and her features were contorted with pain. When they finally stilled, her head fell to the side, inertly and with the eyes open wide.

Remus lifted his gaze from the paper and looked at Severus apprehensively, not sure he wanted to know what it was about.

“Afraid to read about yourself, are you, Lupin?” he asked bitingly. “I am on the third page, if you’d rather start with that.” This last tone was new. It resembled the haughty manner of Lucius Malfoy and Remus was pretty sure this was the first time he heard Snape speak like that. It only enhanced his worry that the most reasonable explanation (yet one he was failing to accept) – that Severus was a true servant to the Dark Lord, elated by his victory – was true.

He decided, however, to follow his advice and flicked through the pages.

On the second one, the new Minister for Magic, Lucius Malfoy, was smiling brightly to the camera. His son and wife stood beside him, since the article portrayed him as _“a family man”._ That might have been necessary to assuage the worries of those who weren’t directly involved in the war, and the Muggle Prime Minister too. A face that was human was also more persuasive in certain matters and, possibly, Voldemort had finally understood that.

On the next one, looking less skeletal than he did in person, there was Professor Severus Snape, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. This smile, which the photographer must have forced him to make for the sake of publicity, would be best classified as faint and wry. He was dressed in his usual robes, buttoned up to his neck and wore a silver necklace with the likeness of a snake. It could have been an order of sorts. His hair glistened in the sun, a thousand times tidier than it was now. Behind him was the fountain, one of the few sculptures that either survived the battle, or, more likely, were easily restorable.

Remus skimmed through the contents of the article. It spoke of Snape’s amazing accomplishments and acts of wit during the war. Then, more compendiously, of the other staff members that were to _“restore the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to its former glory, as intended by the founders.”_ Most repeated from the founders’ names was the one of Salazar Slytherin. To further stress how perfect the choice of the Headmaster (appointed by the infallible Dark Lord himself) was, his House allegiance had been brought up a few times. From the staff, on the other hand, the notable names were: the Carrows, Macnair, Avery – Severus’ schoolmate. The names Remus read without trembling with fear for the wellbeing of students were downplayed, listed at the end and not described in detail: Pince, Pomfrey, Sprout, Sinistra, Hooch. It seemed that the Dark Lord did not regard women as imminent. In the last paragraph, the author again expressed his awe at the skills of Headmaster Snape. Finally, he announced, _“nothing better could have happened to Hogwarts before or after the battle”._

 _Believe me or not, but a lot of better things could have. A fire, for example_ – Remus thought, bitterly.

The remark must have shown on his face, since Snape commented on his expression. “Yes, the writer is a blithering idiot and a sycophant. Not his fault, really, with Dolores monitoring the press. Still, the choice was between me and Amycus, or your would-be-murderer Antonin, so he is right in a way. I do prefer the school empty, of course, but not necessarily filled with the corpses of students.”

_Oh… so that too was intended as a joke? Is he actually happy about somehow having befooled Voldemort and thus getting the post, even though he’s changed sides again? Or is he simply lying to me?_

Remus had thought himself good at catching such things normally, so it had to be either his still foggy mind or the general atmosphere of doom. Telling Snape to cut it with the sarcastic remarks could ignite another burst of his wand-grabbing irritation. Remus resolved not to risk it for now, not until he would find out everything he needed to decide what to do next. He wasn’t planning on staying here a second longer than he’d have to, that was certain. Throwing himself on Snape’s mercy was an insane idea, since the man wasn’t exactly famous for scrupling.

Now Remus focused back on the paper, finally daring to face his situation, described, no doubt, in terrifying detail, on the first page.

_“The Department of Control for Magical Creatures is delighted to report, that the procedure of neutralizing the danger the werewolves pose to the wizarding society has been put into place. ‘Thanks to the newest invention – The Subduing Solution – we might finally be able to eradicate that disease from our society once and for all,’ says Mr. Addington, the head of the Sub-department of Humanoid Creatures.”_

“Are they putting them… us… down?” Remus wondered, unsure whether he would be able to read the whole article.

“Yes.” Snape nodded while answering. “You are still able to comprehend written text, I see.”

Lupin was too preoccupied with his fear to respond to that jab. “The dangerous ones? The unregistered? The ones that fought against Voldemort?—“ he asked in one breath.

The Death Eater cut in, sharply, “The Dark Lord. He is to be referred to as the Dark Lord. At all times.”

“Even when you’re ironically wishing him a good reign?”

The black eyes pierced him, solemnly and with something akin to approval. “Especially then.”

“But, returning to your kind,” Severus continued, “yes, those first. However, the ones who are pathetically weak in their human form, such as yourself, as well. It is only a matter of time before they start administering the poison to kids.” A sort of ruthless amusement swept through Snape’s face when he saw Remus’ eyes widen. “What? Did you think the Dark Lord keeps his promises to creatures, Lupin?” he marvelled.

But that wasn’t what Remus was thinking. “Teddy! Will Teddy be… He’s not one, but he…”

“—has the blood of one,” Severus finished for him. “No, he will not. I cannot guarantee for other cases like him, but he is, for the time being, under no danger of being killed. And, since he has inherited Tonks’ useful ability, if there ever is need, he can appear to be anyone’s blood.”

“Where is he?” Remus demanded, realising how terrible a father he was not to start with that question.

“Safe and well cared for.”

A wave of vexation overcame Remus. “Where?” he insisted, shifting under the covers. _Where is my wand?_ – he wondered as he looked around. It was well hidden, apparently, which made him feel rather threatened.

“Calm down, Lupin. The next Full Moon is a month away,” sneered Snape, watching him panic.

There was little in the world that could feed his irritation as much as this man’s taunts, when delivered instead of answers, especially this one answer, which Remus so desperately needed to hear. “WHERE IS HE?” he repeated with a growl, pulling the duvet aside. He only stopped himself when his legs were already over the edge of the bed.

Severus changed his position in the armchair from the previous, relaxed one, to leaning towards him. His wand was pointing at Lupin and his jaws were so tense that Remus could hear the teeth grating against each other.

“Do you **want** **to** be put down, perhaps?” Severus drawled. “Because that can be arranged anytime, if you keep reacting like a wild beast.”

 _If this is how things are now, then I’ll have to rely on him not turning me in, for Teddy’s sake._ – Remus thought with dread, conformably settling back onto the bed.  
Severus might have been acting more unpredictably than the usual, but he didn’t have any option other than trying to appease him.

“Sorry,” he forced himself to say. “I am terrified for him, that’s all.”

Severus leaned back in the chair, again, but his wand remained ready on his lap. “Your son is, currently, in the Malfoy manor, under the care of Narcissa and her house elves.”

“At Malfoys’?!” Remus couldn’t stop himself from shouting in terror.

“What did I tell you about calming down?” Snape frowned, fingers curling around the wood of his wand.

“Sorry,” he apologised again. Getting himself hit with a Silencio would be most counterproductive in his search for answers. “At the Malfoy Manor? When Malfoy is the Minister under—?” Not yet used to calling Voldemort his title, Remus left the sentence hanging. “How did you get him out of Andromeda’s care? And do they not know whose he is?”

“Oh, see, Mrs. Tonks is currently being prosecuted, so she lost all claims to custody. And of course they know,” Severus said condescendingly. “You are officially a dead man, Lupin, so it is no great shakes that Narcissa would take care of her sister’s orphaned blood. See, she still has the time to fix him into a decent wizard, not a criminal like his other relatives.” He smiled, not quite maliciously, but even the absurdity of that statement did not let Lupin do the same.

The world he lost consciousness in, during the battle, was one in which his place – on the good side, was clear to him. Here, he had to agree with Snape, however sour that truth tasted – he was a dangerous outlaw. It was more horrifying than it was ridiculous. Besides, he wasn’t confident whether the Death Eater before him wasn’t joyful about exactly the things he found sickening.

“How did I die, then?” Remus inquired.

“Ineffectively, as can be seen,” he got the answer, delivered in a far too amused tone. “You are not interested in your child anymore? Family instincts are supposed to be strong in wolves, I believe.”

“You weren’t eager to tell me, Severus, so I decided I’ll try to find out later.” Remus struggled not to let the anger that surged through him be audible.

“Oh well, if you do not want to know, then so be it,” the Death Eater shrugged, reaching for a book on the table beside him.

He reminded Remus of the way Moaning Myrtle would sometimes act, like when The Marauders tried to probe her about the Room of the Requirement. If he wasn’t already irked, he would have found that rather funny.

_Circe, give me patience, or I am going to tear that man apart, no wand necessary._

Remus took a deep breath, in an effort to steady his tone, and asked, directly, “What more can you tell me about my son?”

Snape had not yet opened the book and now gazed at Lupin, the typical deadpan back on his face. “I take care of the child as well, provided I have the time,” he said after a while. “I have sent him away because I assumed, correctly it turns out, that the Draught would finally wear off—“

So that was the source of the fog in Remus’ mind! And the reason why events seemed to have been happening at some enormous speed – he had been asleep, for hell knew how long. Severus, the goddamned potioneer-genius, drugged him with something, of course. Remus now stopped listening to him and looked again at the newspaper spread untidily on the duvet to read the date on it.

“It’s June?!”

“Yes. June, the 13th, year 1998,” Severus confirmed with an exasperated sigh and excessive precision. “Will you be communicating solely in astonished shouts today? And did you hear anything I have said?”

“The thing about the draught last,” Remus admitted with sincere embarrassment.

“So I thought.” Snape lifted the cup with coffee to his lips, graciously giving Remus a moment to contemplate the passing of time and the implications it brought. When he put it down again, he continued his deride. “Are you always this all over the shop, or is it a novelty for you, Lupin? Wrong moon, perhaps?”

 _Don’t. Let. Him. Anger. You._ – Remus reminded himself. “No, usually not this much, unless it’s less than a week before Full Moon. Then I feel rather like how I do now,” he answered, calmly.

“And that is?”

“Irritable, confused, with something fog-like obscuring some of my thoughts, but at other times – as if I’m thinking too fast.”

“Well, it is hard to say for certain, considering the other circumstances, but it could be the draught,” Snape explained and his tone was suddenly almost apologetic. “As you might have figured, it stopped you from transforming. Twice. Had to have a side effect.” Remus noticed him hiding his wand, in a gesture that was probably meant not to be so obvious, yet it still was – he did it because he got a confirmation that Lupin wasn’t wittingly snapping at him before.

_Like a tale you tell children about a spider – he’s as afraid of you as you are of him._

“Getting back to your offspring,” Remus’ spider continued. His certainly arachnid-like fingers curled around the handle of the cup. He eyed Remus warily as he spoke, and not without reason. “—I am planning to adopt him.” After the words, he hid behind the cup and sipped his probably already cold coffee, as the onyx voids pierced Lupin searchingly from above the porcelain edge.

It took all the self-control Remus could muster not to start yelling obscenities at that statement. The Headmaster of Hogwarts, so Voldemort’s roughly third in command, adopting Teddy. All Remus could think was – _no, fuck, no_. Yet, when he restrained his own emotions, it got to him that it was the best option available. Teddy would be safe. And if he could keep close to him, he could hope to neutralize the indoctrination and general acerbity he would be exposed to.

Severus reassured him in that conclusion by adding, “Unless you prefer it to be the Malfoys, because they too have offered. Although Lucius is not exactly fond of the boy.”

“Why?” Remus coughed out. He meant – _why did it have to be you?,_ but also – _why are you doing this?_

If Severus had wanted to turn Teddy into a proper Dark Lord’s follower, then he, Lupin, would never have woken up, would he? Or perhaps he would – in Azkaban, with a bottle of the Subduing Solution before him. _It would be easier for you to bring Teddy up an orphan, grateful to his Death Eater adoptive father. So what on Earth compelled you to save me from the Ministry?!_

“Why Lucius hates a child of a werewolf and the daughter of a bloodline-traitor, both members of the Order? Or why have I become a self-sacrificing fool?” Severus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Well, wasn’t that last thing an accurate self-assessment on his side. “The second one, though I would have phrased it differently,” Lupin told him.

The Death Eater put his cup away without even a plink, and met Remus’ asking gaze. His brows lowered with a wrinkle between them and a pensive, solemn expression appeared on his angular face. He made it look like he was about to begin some sort of a heartfelt tirade on morality and conscience, ending in describing the transformation caused by the guilt he felt. Then, he said, “No idea,” pouting like a moody kid.

Against himself, Remus snickered.

\---

Lupin didn’t manage to get the justification for his actions from Severus. He didn’t get any more answers out of him, either. Once Severus had decided his account was comprehensive enough and that was – with the first question about his intentions, he simply began acting as if he didn’t understand the desperate need Remus felt for further clarifications on his situation.

Neither the mystery of how exactly he was saved, who was the dead (and possibly – transfigured to resemble him) person that took his place in the documents, nor the even more pressing enigma of how did Severus achieve his current standing and why was he risking it for a lowly werewolf, got solved. Severus ignored or dodged his questions, or deflected them with sneering and Remus, irritable because of the side effects of the potion and two wolf-less moons, caught his bait each time. Therefore their conversation kept rapidly changing between a bearably (un)friendly banter to an outright fight.

Severus was not only rather mentally unstable, but also atypically talkative, although not informatively so, of course. He did, however, inform Remus about the state of Hogwarts at the moment, in a little more detail regarding the former staff that the Prophet article did. Lupin found out that they were all exculpated for their offences in the war because “they only tried to protect the students and did not understand where the real danger lay”. Severus, according to what he told Remus, was to visit Hogwarts to monitor its restoration today. He promised, with a rather venomous expression, that he’d provide him with a list of corpses and then left the room, possibly to pack what he needed.

When he returned, but before his departure for the school, he laid down the ground rules.

Somehow, Remus wasn’t the least bit surprised with how thorough they were, how well arranged everything already was in order to keep him - a fugitive from the law, in concealment. Snape certainly did have the time, almost a month and a half, but, on the other hand – did he not have his own duties and a child to take care of meanwhile? And yet he managed to make the extra effort. Lupin was still rather petulant, but he did not argue with any of those, rather impressed by his preparedness and the mere fact that he had made the choice to take all those measures for his sake.

“The Floo portal works only for me and an anti-apparition jinx has been applied, as a precaution.” _So that no Death Eater comes to visit unannounced_ – Remus filled in, in his mind, what Severus didn’t deem necessary to say out loud. “I will add you the list of exemptions when it becomes necessary.” Snape went on. “The muggle door is blocked both ways, as well, unless for an emergency. If there ever is one – take the Polyjuice from the shelf by the exit.”

Overall it did sound like he was imprisoned, but Severus forgot to add his smirk of Schadenfreude at the end, which raised Lupin’s hopes, that he was, indeed, not enjoying his suffering. _Or perhaps he’s not keen to share a roof with a beast, but he cannot back down anymore._ Lupin tried to work out Severus’ situation – whether with his current power and position he was actually in any danger - mainly because that distracted him from thinking about his own, but so far he had too little information to base his conclusions on.

“The windows are enchanted, so you cannot be seen from the outside. Still, I would rather you did not make it a habit to act like you are invisible.” the next prescription came.

“There is no elves here, but I assume you are used to not having servants. However, since you are in no way able to do anything yet—“ Severus said, having seen Remus stumble out of the bed and then fall back onto it because of the post-coma dizziness a moment ago. “—I might bring you food from Hogwarts.”

 _The “might” is a nice touch_ – Remus restrained himself from uttering the ironic remark.

“You are free to walk around the house. Only I do not take responsibility for your broken skull if you try it in this state—“ he warned. “—I can assure you it will only lessen my current count of headache-inducing affairs if you die.”

 _Well what would you be, without at least one veiled death-threat every twenty minutes, Severus?_ Remus still hadn’t decided whether he found that more infuriating or amusing, but he had promised himself he wouldn’t let the irritation show, so he settled for the latter option.

“Do keep the fireplace lit until I am back, however.” Snape ordered and before Remus could start to protest that he didn’t have a wand, he added “--simply flicking just before it burns out should be enough to sustain it.” He didn’t give any further description of the odd invention applied to his fireplace, obviously.

“Bed sheets, towels, robes and such are in the chest here—“ Snape showed Remus the piece of furniture by closing the door behind which it was hidden. “—no mudblood—“ he said, then, seeing the expression on Lupin’s face, corrected himself with fake sweetness in his tone “--oh, excuse me, muggle, clothes, and get used to that.” Whether Severus meant the slur or the clothing wasn’t entirely clear to him. _Probably both._

“When will I see Teddy?” Remus took the risk of asking, when Severus lit the fireplace and cast some kind of a wordless spell on himself, readying to leave.

“In two days time.” he answered curtly, reaching for the silver jar with Floo powder.

“Can’t it be sooner?!” Lupin asked, apparently louder than he had intended to.

“Unless you wish to be taken by the Ministry already, no.” Severus began explaining in a slick, silky voice, while he unscrewed the lid. “I gave you a three day margin for waking up, and the boy will stay with Narcissa until the end of that period not to attract suspicion. No matter how loud you yell at me, Lupin.”

“Any further questions?” he then amended, in a tone that said – “Don’t you dare have any.” for him, but Remus ignored that and inquired about his wand’s whereabouts.

“Your wand has been buried with the body of a Remus Lupin—“ Severus’ fingers dived in the jar for a pinch of the silver powder “—You might be able to find yourself a new one at Hogwarts. Provided you do not have moral objections to that, of course.”

Remus wanted to further probe him about that, unsure whether he meant taking an abandoned wand that had another master previously, or maybe one whose master had died, but Severus had already sprinkled the powder into the fireplace. The green flames grew until his tall figure was engulfed by them.

“Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office” Snape demanded and in a whirl of black disappeared in the portal.

And so - Remus was left all alone in the unknown house with only his grief-filled thoughts to keep him company.

He was still determined to avoid reflecting on Tonks and her death, or about the hunt for people like himself, so, despite Severus’ warning, he decided to try to get out of the bed to find a distraction of some sort.

The newspaper, now again lying crumpled in the foot of the bed, slid down from the black duvet when Remus moved underneath it. His feet landed on the floor and this time he was more careful while trying to stand – with his hand clutched tightly around the wooden frame long after the room stopped being all wobbly in his eyes. He then leaned down, still holding onto the bed, to lift the Prophet and smoothened the pages a little with his hand. The details of the Subduing Solution and his inevitable death caused by it, if the situation would not change soon, could certainly wait until he was seated again, so he put the paper on the nightstand by the bed.

Then, he cautiously moved to the armchair in the corner and looked at the book lying on the étagère beside it. The shiny, silver lettering on the otherwise plain, black cover said: _“Hindering the minds of the innocent”_.

“Well, that would be it on the not-evil-Snape” Remus murmured to himself opening what was very obviously a tome on Dark Magic. However, it was very rare to come across any book so avowedly admitting to its dark contents, in the first place. _Perhaps the rules have changed_ _now_ and while publications such as the Prophet still preferred to use euphemisms, all the knowledge that had remained hidden in dungeons and cellars for so long, could see the light of the day again.

He began thumbing through it before the thought that, perhaps, Severus would not be exactly fond of him rummaging through his things could even appear. When it did, followed by the image of being hit defenceless by a curse of his choosing, it was already too late, because Remus had found a dog-eared page and, leaning against the bookcase, began reading.

The chapter was called _“Attributes of a child’s mind”_ and he shivered to his core when he saw that. The fact that the part on toddlers had notations on the margin in Severus’ untidy scribble, which he couldn’t quite decipher, did not exactly put his worst fears at ease.

_Teddy. He’s trying to do something to Teddy._

He scanned the text, but didn’t come upon anything particularly incriminating. It stated the rather obvious – that a child’s mind was flexible, not fully developed yet and thus prone to manipulation. Although, on top of that, it did give a very detailed account on how to make use of those characteristics of it, both with and without the usage of Legilimency.

Remus decided he had to read it from top to bottom to understand what he was against, though perhaps not when at any moment Severus could appear back in the house. He had no idea how much time he had, so for now he settled for finding out as much as possible and therefore returned to flicking through the book, in search for other pages that bore marks of usage.

The next dog-eared chapter was the _“Long lasting and permanent mind control”_ and Remus really did not like the sound of this already. It described several curses, different from the one mind-controlling spell he knew well – Imperiatus, and Lupin considered himself rather knowledgeable in the Dark Arts, as far as fighting them took. The ones presented here, however, seemed more complicated and often required at least a few enchantments to work properly. The effects were much more subtle – one of the curses, for example, with the letters “L” and “D” scribbled below it by Snape, pertained to training a child’s mind to follow one’s orders. It was called Obedientis and worked similarly to a basic repelling jinx – it couldn’t prevent the subject ( _victim_ ) from performing certain actions, but they triggered an unpleasant sensation, which in this case could range from itching to a burning pain, according to demands of the spellcaster.

Remus’ imagination complaisantly slipped him a vision of Teddy shrieking in pain when he tried to touch him. Then - one of Teddy with tears in his eyes, obeying some kind of a cruel order given to him by _his adoptive father._ His conclusion was that a wand, if Severus was truly going to follow through with that offer, was a necessity, whether it was robbed off a corpse or no. He did not trust that man, despite the evidence he got so far, and, while he was sure the feeling was mutual, he was definitely going to take all the chances he got to be able to save Teddy from too much of his influence; and having a wand would greatly improve his prospects on that.

For now, however, he put the book away, trying to make a note of the title and the cover, so that looking for it later would not take too long. Then, he glanced at the tall, mahogany bookcases before him. Their contents were rather neatly arranged, sorted by topic, possibly, rather than size, from what Remus could tell. The two stands were separated physically, by the corner, but nevertheless, they did form a whole, with the shelves at the same height containing a similar assortment of books. The one in the middle was filled solely with tomes in black, purple, crimson and green covers, mainly made of leather, whose spines were engraved with glistening letters and which looked oddly out of place in here. The empty space on that shelf housed the _“Hindering”_ , most likely. The two shelves above, were filled with plainer tomes on potion-making, most of which were worn and had their cloth covers frayed. The highest one held, amongst others, a tractate on the Dark Arts, which Remus recognised from his studies, as well as other more theoretical readings. The one directly below the elegant shelf were more random, ranging in subjects from Herbology to Astronomy. For the lowest one, Remus had to crouch, holding onto the arm-chair for support. Thanks Circe he had it, since he almost lost balance again.

“MUGGLE BOOKS?!” Remus roared in shock, thankfully with no one to hear him.

There was a Bible, full of dust and unused, but apart from that, mainly psychology and philosophy. Plato to Jung, in terms of chronology. One of Remus’ landlords in the muggle world, when he had given up on trying to find a job in the wizarding one for a while, had an abundant library and so he recognised some of the authors. He decided to look behind the armchair, since that place could hold something interesting as well, since Severus was so ashamed of his own half-muggleness, but at the same time not enough to fully renounce it.

It turned out that there indeed were some disgracefully muggle books, _now probably illegal,_ behind it. The joy of the strange discovery took Remus’ mind off his problems for a short while, as he pushed the armchair further away to be able to take a closer look. There was Bronte, Dickens, Dostoyevsky, Kafka, Lewis... Unlike the other muggle books, those were fairly new, and definitely could not be attributed to previous muggle-locators, if there had been any.

Next, Remus stood up, put the armchair back in its proper place and dusted his robe off, for the first time realising that he had one on. Only now did it occur to him, that if he had been kept here for more than a month, then Snape had to _be a damned nurse, no matter how much he loathes me_. It was simultaneously an unsettling and a spitefully satisfying thought, which took at least a little of his perturbation about being at Severus’ mercy away.

A Death Eater forced to care for a werewolf. _Penance, I presume._

It wasn’t that he didn’t know that Severus was perfectly capable of healing magic, quite the opposite – he was the Order’s expert on the so-called Healing Curses, after all, but such a long time care would require quite a lot of Nutrition Potions, amongst other things (and he had been getting those, judging by the fact he wasn’t even hungry right now) and was generally more tedious than letting somebody die. With each discovery of this kind, when meanwhile Remus’ mind was slowly getting less and less foggy, he began coming to the conclusion that Snape’s threats were not be treated seriously. His plans, especially the ones concerning Teddy, were a different thing, of course, but at least all the grousing and warning about letting the Ministry know definitely wasn’t to be taken seriously.

 _Not that it’s much of a relief if I am to be locked down with him for who knows how long, because it may well change since I will be conscious now. Until the Moon at least, probably –_ with that pessimistic thought, he headed to the adjacent room, which was, as it turned out, not locked. He pushed the door and walked into a bedroom. It hardly looked like one to Lupin, though. Apart from the cradle in the corner perhaps, it seemed more like some ascetic’s chambers, if anything. Not a monk’s since there was no cross (nothing on the walls except from a cabinet with glass doors, which was filled with potions, expectedly), maybe some 19th century writer’s, considering the empty desk with only a candle and a quill in an ink bottle on it.

The room was filled with the scent of sassafras which Lupin had identified earlier, the mix of potions ingredients that Snape usually smelled of, and another, much more familiar and pleasant smell, which still lingered in it, though faintly – _Teddy._ Apart from those two pieces of furniture, there was a chest of drawers, similar to the one in the room where Lupin woke up, a bed (plain and wooden, with black bedding, made up meticulously) and a cradle, _Teddy’s cradle._ It was the only thing in here that had any colour to it – the frame was mahogany as well, almost black, but inside it there was a light green pillow and a silver, definitely magical, based on how it seemed to emit its own gleam, blanket. On it lay a plush toy of a duck, which, when Remus reached for it, moved and quacked at him. All of the child’s things looked very expensive and very Malfoyish. Well, maybe the toy didn’t. In fact, it brought Tonks and her shenanigans to Remus’ mind, which almost made him wet the silver blanket with his tears.

_At least now I can cry freely._

Crying was what he spent the next half an hour doing, although first he left Severus’ bedroom and closed the door after himself, then he moved to the kitchen, so that Snape, if he suddenly emerged from the chimney, wouldn’t catch him “weak, as always, Lupin”. He sat at the table, face hidden between his hands and just let himself break down.

When he was done, not quite feeling better, but with a certain sense of a catharsis nevertheless, he began rummaging through the kitchen. He only found typical, quite mugglish, ingredients in it (there was a fridge! _what pureblood supremacist has a fridge?_ ) and also a lot of food for Teddy (from gruel to magical concoctions for kids) in the black cupboards. Then, Remus went to the last two rooms.

First was the laboratory – again, surprisingly, not locked – in which there was a tall, marble working station, with four cutting boards and a set of knives ( _more than in the kitchen –_ Remus noted) and a tall glass-panelled cabinet full of ingredients. There was another, shorter closet, which probably contained cauldrons and other equipment and above the table there was a holder for ladles and such. It was the only room so far, which didn’t have a window (only a narrow vent hole instead) and had its walls painted dark grey, instead of white. On the verge of the working station, there was a set of vials, seven of them, which looked prepared for being filled with something, but there wasn’t any cauldron out and, judging by the smells, there had not been any lately.

Next was the bathroom, plain and very muggle, with navy tiles and normal, old-looking, armature. Lupin stopped before the, luckily not enchanted, mirror, and sized himself up in it.

Apart from his skin, red from crying, but except from the cheeks – paler than the usual, and the shaggy beard covering his chin, he wasn’t looking much worse than what he was used to. Perhaps it was the wizarding robe (judging by the silk material, most likely another gift from the Malfoys, or at least - they were the inspiration), but if he wasn’t completely grief-stricken in the face, with the currently rather lifeless chasm in his bloodshot brown eyes, he’d be almost presentable. His hair was rather dishevelled, but to that there was a solution ready – a brush, laying on a shelf labelled “Lupin” in the cramped black letters, on the right of the mirror. He brushed his locks and tried to smile at his reflection, but only managed to wince wistfully.

Remus shambled out of the bathroom and back to the library, to lay down, since he suddenly began feeling tired and a little dizzy again. Before he did so, however, he first inspected the chest that Severus showed him before, having come to the conclusion that it would be rather proper not to stay in the nightrobes all day ( _or all week... or all month!_ _If there have been freshening charms cast, even my nose wouldn’t tell)_. It was already almost 3 p.m., after all.

The chest, apart from robes that only differed from Snape’s in that they did not have hundreds of buttons, contained sheets, a black blanket and a towel. In the drawer below, apart from other clothes for Lupin, there were some muggle toys, ones that looked rather old, old enough to be Snape’s, so maybe this was the house he was brought up in. Remus made a mental note to ask about that, though he did not expect to hear an answer. Most of the toys were too complicated (or too small) for such a young child, except from the teddy bears, maybe, but it seemed that they have all been put away for later.

He finally closed the drawer and, having forgotten about his plan to change already, due to his sleepiness, he slid underneath the black duvet again. The room was awfully warm, because of the still lit fireplace, but Lupin wasn’t sure whether he could open a window, so he decided not to. The stuffiness engulfed him and he fell into a sort of exhausted nap.

Severus woke him up when he returned. The sound of him apparating wasn’t loud enough to do so, of course, but the “Congratulations Lupin, you cannot even successfully keep the fire burning in the portal!” was.

“Trust me, you do not want the exemption in the dissaparition jinx to be exploited by someone who is not me, and the Floo is so much easier to manage in terms of that. Which you, a fellow criminal, should be well aware of.” he continued, loudly enough to pull Remus completely out of sleep, even though Snape had first landed in the foyer. His steps were audible in the corridor, then he headed to the kitchen and returned, entering the library with equal subtlety with which he spoke (that was - none at all) and making the door clash against the chest of drawers.

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep--” Remus began explaining himself, realising that the fire had, indeed burnt out.

“I am not interested in your excuses.” Severus cut in.“Anti-drowsiness potion” he put three vials on the, before – empty, nightstand, on Lupin’s right and stormed out.

Remus scrambled up from the bed and went to the kitchen. Inside, Severus was bustling, his robes shuffling against the tiles. On the table there was a huge platter with an assortment of food, typical for a Hogwarts’ dinner feast. It was already dark outside, so that was definitely the most appropriate meal, although Remus didn’t quite have the appetite and would have opted for breakfast food if he had the choice. Snape, he noticed, now had a wine glass in his hand, the contents of which had already been almost completely drained.

“Tea or coffee?” he heard the question when he sat down. Perhaps Severus had seen him looking at his beverage.

“Tea, please. ” Remus chose.

In a moment he had a teacup before him, different from the one he previously drank water from - dark navy with silver leaves drawn on it. Snape, it seemed, was not planning to drink anything more than what he already had. He put his glass away into the silver sink and, rather angrily, brought the plates, knives and forks onto the table, two of each, to Remus’ surprise having therefore chosen to eat in his company.

 _Well, it’s always an additional occasion to pester him with questions, surely, he will be delighted by that._ – Lupin thought, almost amusedly, while putting roast chicken, along with some potatoes and carrots onto his plate. Severus waited for him to finish doing that, before he filled his own plate, probably not to risk _accidentally touching the werewolf_. He used to do so, when they would both sit at the Hogwarts’ staff table, seemingly hundreds of years ago.

“You have muggle books—“ Remus began, choosing to start with something that wasn’t too nosy of him to have noticed.

Severus, busy chewing, nodded silently, sparing him the jab at his intellectual capacity that allowed him to observe that.

“Isn’t that illegal or something, now?” Lupin inquired.

“It is.” Severus looked at him with the raise of brow that meant he found the question incredibly stupid. “You may have noticed I have not exactly been following the law, lately.”

“Well, true that. I suppose the books would be the least of your problems if somebody entered that room.” Lupin corrected himself.

“Exactly.”

For a moment, they ate in silence. But Remus didn’t last long, still more interested in finding out about things than he was in eating. “The muggle toys—“ he said, trying to ignore the slightly threatening glisten in Snape’s eyes “—were they yours?”

A curt nod, again. Once he had swallowed the piece of roast, however, there came further elucidation. “Magical toys are either loud or need explaining. I have neither the time, nor the patience to suffer through either of that--” he said, cutting off another piece of meat from the platter. “Besides, he does have muggle heritage. Not that I believe it needs cultivating, personally, but I thought you could, in the current state of things.”

“Thanks” Remus risked saying. Severus glanced at him, slightly puzzled. “For being considerate on that. I indeed do. If this—“ he gestured around vaguely with his hand “—continues, it would be best to have the option to, perhaps, join the muggle world for good.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you--” Severus drawled. “I wouldn’t even think of that, actually. The thing the Ministry is doing to the werewolves is nothing compared to what they have in store for those who defy their orders of not associating with the muggle culture.”

Then he responded to Remus’ unuttered question, which he had read from his wide-eyed expression, with: “Sessions of Crucio mainly, but other curses are being used as well. All until the subject agrees that mudbl—“ he checked himself “—all right, Lupin, muggles. It’s habitual. Until the subject agrees that there is no greater menace than muggleness.”

“Are you comparing a planned out holocaust to simple torture?” Remus asked, shocked, while stopping his hand from curling into a fist around the knife. He had figured that this, automatic gesture, could be unwelcome by someone who was, apparently, slightly scared of him a few hours ago. _Even though I’m currently, again, completely convinced it should only be the other way round._

Severus, however, did not notice it, since he, suddenly greatly amused at something, choked on his food and burst into a coughing fit. “Did you just say ‘simple torture’, Lupin?” he inquired, with an amused smirk, once he had stopped coughing. “Not a day in my company has passed and you think Crucio to be ‘simple torture’?”

“Don’t change the subject, Severus.” Remus cautioned him. “And this is not exactly a laughing matter.”

Snape’s tone was earnest, when he spoke again. “Well, I might have a slightly skewed perspective— I prayed that the Dark Lord would cast the killing curse on me not two months ago— but I do think that.” he admitted. “Only one involves living with the aftermath, which is the most torturous part. You disagree, I assume?”

Remus considered him for a while, then decided not to ask about the wanting-to-die thing.  
“Frankly, for a moment I thought that you were going to say that werewolves’ lives don’t count as much—“ he said, carefully jabbing the pieces of carrots with his fork and therefore not meeting Severus’ gaze.

He was unwittingly right to do that, in a way, since it spared him witnessing the abrupt shift in his features. Snape exhaled heavily through his nostrils, and when Remus raised his head from above the plate, Severus’ face was a tense mask of white with a red flush. His fist banged on the table before he spoke, but his voice was frigid. “You are either incredibly dim, Lupin, or incredibly set on making me throw you out—“ he stated, glaring at Remus from above, as he stood up from his seat. “--which, for the record, I am not going to do. Hopefully you are able to work out why.”

With that, he left the kitchen, stomping angrily and slamming all the doors in his way, first into the wall, then into their frames, as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“And you, Severus, are an incredibly badly behaved 38 year-old. At least I’ll be trained for what comes when Teddy is a teen.” Remus murmured, watching him leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether short or long and on recent updates or not-so-much, all comments warm my heart, so I'll just say - your thoughts and opinions are always welcome!  
> 


	2. The Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Teddy is a tad older than canon for child development purposes (a 2.5 month old would not fit with my vision as much as a 4-5 month old one does). Still, obviously Teddy's perspective is probably one hell far too developed, but I gotta. 

Severus, in his apparent wish to make himself seem like a teenager in Remus’ eyes ( _honestly, not even Hogwarts’ 4 th and 5th years threw tantrums this fiery_), did not speak to him for the rest of the evening. In fact, he only left his bedroom once and Remus, who watched him from the kitchen, where he was still struggling to finish the meal, saw him deliberately-omitting-Lupin with his gaze, on his way to the lab. Snape, of course, would not enter either the library/Remus’-bedroom, nor the kitchen, for as long as they weren’t empty.

Remus sighed deeply and, once he had finished eating, or rather – given up on it, he took all the dishes, along with the teacups from the library, and put them in the sink. Expectedly, there was no muggle washing-up liquid and such, so he left them there, feeling slightly guilty about not being able to clean up. Then he put the platter, which still looked full, although Remus was convinced that the Hogwarts ability of it refilling did not reach this far, into the fridge. Finally, he left the kitchen, went to the bathroom and, since he was still in his sleeping-robes anyways, returned to the library to lie down. He noticed, with mild surprise, that the room had been aired, possibly with a spell, since Severus definitely did not put a foot in it.

Sleep didn’t come easily, this time.

He kept turning from side to side, his mind fractious, with the occasional doom-filled question about the future glistening inside in with alarming, blood-coloured neon. With eyes closed, every now and then he’d also see Tonks. But not the sweet, though tear-jerking image of her rocking Teddy or them kissing above his cradle, no – her, in the gleam of bright green light, with the horrifying silhouette of Bellatrix Lestrange in front of her. Opening them didn’t help much, either – the Moon was still far too full for Remus to be able to look at it calmly. _Especially since, on top of what it usually brought, it now signifies Death, doesn’t it?_ – with thoughts as cheerful as this one filling his head, Remus tried to focus on the smells and sounds around him. Usually, that would do the trick of calming him down a little.

He listened in to the distant clatter of vials in the laboratory, then the clinging of plates in the kitchen when they were being scourgified, then the sound of water swashing in the piping of the muggle bathroom... He only fell asleep after Severus’ (still forceful) footsteps left the corridor again and he closed his door behind, with a creak. At least, this time, he didn’t slam it.

As he was to discover soon, Snape’s way of proving that he did not, in fact, hate werewolves, was acting like he only had a problem with Remus out of them, and not for his existence - just for his general personality. The next two days Severus spent very evidently fighting with himself not to speak Lupin, but then always finding something to pick at and, as a result, acting like a particularly mean and grim version of Molly Weasley. It was a somewhat domestic presence then, but the fact that Remus now lost the possibility of finding out what was happening outside or getting to know the new Severus Snape (and the possible menace he posed) better, pained him.

The next day, in the morning, Remus, who woke up before sunset, and shortly gave up on trying to battle his current insomnia – _I have slept for a month and a half, after all,_ went to make himself some tea. Soon, he was greeted by an exceptionally disgruntled-looking Snape with a silent glare. Remus himself wasn’t too in a mood for patiently taking this, but he managed to sound politely when he said: “Good morning, Severus. Do you want tea, as well?”

Severus did not want tea, nor did he want to hear him speak, judging by the following glower. Therefore, Remus settled for silence while they both milled around the limited space of the kitchen.

Severus, who needed to get into the cupboard under which Remus was standing – waiting for the kettle to whistle, but would neither say so, nor come within two feet distance of him, waited in the corner until Lupin noticed and moved aside. Then, he was rummaging in the fridge for a while, still – without a word. Remus could use something to take his mind off of the soulful brooding, but he had come to the conclusion that Severus, especially when wreckful and fatigued, would most likely do the opposite, so he was almost grateful for having offended him earlier.

However, Remus wasn’t to enjoy the quiet for long. He brewed the tea in a black pot, then filled his cup and went with it to the table. He had not been feeling drowsy before that, but now, when he suddenly wasn’t leaning against the counter, his eyes became woozy and he lost balance. He hit himself in the head against the nearest cabinet’s handle and his knees landed on the floor, causing a shudder to travel through his spine.

 _Eh, fuck_ – he thought simply, with defeat, as he heard the porcelain clash against the tiles and felt the burn of tea spilled onto the thin robes.

Snape, who had since fixed himself a glass of what looked like radioactive waste, but Remus knew it to be the muggle equivalent of a Pepper Up potion, watched him fall. Then, he pulled out his wand, lazily, and cast a Tergeo. First he cleaned the floor, however, only next did he point at Lupin, who had, rather thoroughly, splashed himself with the hot liquid. He then stood up from his chair, still seizing Remus up with the kind of glance that was intended to make him regret ever daring to be in the same room as Snape, not to say – clumsily ruining something of his. Lupin tried to get up to his feet, but Severus didn’t let him.

“Sit, Lupin.” he ordered, pushing him back onto the floor with the very tips of his fingers, as if any more touch would hurt him. “You are bleeding.” he stated what Remus had yet to realise, then waved his wand at his forearm, muttering Episkey. He then did the same thing aiming at the parts of Remus’ robe that had been spilled onto before.

When Severus was done with that and straightened again, Remus began scrambling up to his feet, but was then stopped by another glare. “Sit.” Severus repeated, with a curled lip and even more sternly this time. The pieces of the teacup, were wordlessly swept from the floor, then turned into said teacup back again.

“Of course it had to be this set.” Snape grumbled, very unsentimentally, however. He examined the cup in his hand, to ensure that no lines of where it had been shattered remained. “Now you move back to the table--“ he turned to Lupin, once he had finished cleaning up.

He did just so, this time holding onto furniture or the wall while he walked, since he had his hands empty anyways. Severus poured him another teacup and grudgingly put it in front of him. Then he left and Remus first assumed he had decided not spend another minute in the company of a graceless nitwit, which he disappointingly would have to agree that he was, but there was the sound of drawers being opened, and nearby – in the library, probably. Severus surfaced back into the kitchen holding one of the vials he gave Remus yesterday.

“They were not for decoration, Lupin.” he informed, pushing the bottle towards him. “If you wish to hurt yourself, there are ways better than demolishing my kitchen.” 

_You just have to add those unsettling things at the end, or you wouldn’t seem as awful as you want to be, would you?_

Honestly, the potion looked kind of similar to what Snape had been drinking before, but Remus restrained himself from making that remark. “Ever the Molly Weasley.” – this one, however, he could not contain.

“What?” Severus asked demandingly, taking the seat by the table again, as Remus obediently emptied the vial, then washed it down with the tea. The potion had a bearable taste of almonds and ginger, but once it touched the roof of his mouth, Remus felt it burning.

“Nothing.” he answered, once he had gulped the spicy medicine down. _Just that you’ve gotten ridiculously bad at Your Thing that ‘not giving a damn’ was._ Since any personal comments were very clearly unwelcome, he remained quiet and Severus left it be.

The next time they spoke, it was the nagging again - just before Severus was to leave for Hogwarts. Remus, now rather stable on his feet, was just taking his second cup of tea of the day back into the kitchen, when he run into Severus in the, rather cramped, foyer.

“In case you do not want to look like a castaway anymore for when Edward returns here--” Snape began, in his casually spiteful tone “—there is a muggle razor in the bathroom cabinet, with the other paraphernalia. There also is alcohol and some muggle band aids, which, knowing you, you will be needing.”

“Why should that matter? And I thought you were bringing Teddy tomorrow.” Lupin responded, with a growl.

“Would be best if the child could see your face, I presume—“ Severus replied, silkily. “And I am. Which is not to say you should either lay idle all day – and I am never letting you into the lab, definitely, because I want my glass intact – besides, I am rather sure you will end up mauled by that procedure, so best give the wounds time to heal.”

 _And so the saga of the Clumsy Lupin has begun_ , though Remus was not half as amused at that as he would be under different circumstances. More pissed off, honestly. Snape was sometimes quite irritating, mainly on purpose. Remus had already noticed that Severus was bringing out the worst in him too, though he was better at restraining it. _If it is already hard for me to control myself, then what will be in a week? a month? a year?_ – he wondered, with dread, as he bit his tongue not to respond.

Once Snape was done throwing his barb, he disappeared into the library and in a moment Remus heard the fire crack in the portal. “I will be back around 7 o’clock. If you let it die out this time, I swear on Salazar’s name, I will bring Yaxley with me.” he called out the warning to Lupin before he left.

Severus must have slipped into the room unnoticed earlier, because he kept his promise – there was a list of victims found at Hogwarts laying on the nightstand. Remus scanned through it with his heart in his stomach, only to ascertain that Snape wasn’t lying. Tonks was amongst them, so were all the others he had mentioned, except for the Weasley couple – perhaps they have lost their lives in some place other than the castle and thus weren’t counted. Amongst the names Remus recognised a few kids that he had taught for that one year. _So young, so awfully young to die –_ he shuddered.

He spent most part of the day sitting on the bed with either the yesterday’s newspaper or the dark-arts book open, though not really reading them. Severus’ bothering presence had one merit – it did not let him get as apathetic and drained as he became instantly when left alone.

The reality of being in confinement began slowly descending on Remus in isolation, probably as the residue of the draught was washing away from his veins and as the initial shock had settled. He was locked in, for who knew how long, with no actual control over anything, and though so far Severus had in no way been actually threatening, it was nowhere near a bearable situation. Besides – except for Teddy ( _and Snape; Merlin, what it’s come to_ ) – he either had nobody, or very close to that.

Not even the “ _Hindering”_ seemed important to him currently. Maybe once he saw Teddy he’d get the motivation, but for now it was all unblinking staring at the ceiling until his eyes started to water, because closing them... closing them meant seeing losing ( _ ~~dying~~ )_ Tonks’ face, and he desperately wanted to avoid that.

Then, after capitulating in his battle against food again at lunchtime, he remembered the dig and indeed tried to shave his far too long beard.

“And the Traitor was damn right.” Lupin sighed when the straight razor cut through the skin on his jaw.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The very notion that he could not value the life he was saving (Severus found the expression itself a little melodramatic, but it was the closest to the reality of things) offended him greatly, but mainly because it was dangerously close to the truth.

With the werewolves trying to resist the carnage, it was hard not to see them as creatures. For starters - they were more brutal than most of the DE, and that was definitely saying something. Severus did not consider most of the DE to be entirely human either, though that was a different sort of inhumanity – the controlled type, the type he could understand and imitate, so he wasn’t afraid of it. The wolves, however, were a whole different story. They were attacking in packs and whoever would cross their way, which obviously did not exclude muggles, small children and such; and always killing, at this point. Which, depending on the perspective, could be their vice or only asset in comparison to the DE. Although, the way people screamed seeing the maimed bodies on the pages of the Daily Prophet, was proving that it was the former.

Lucius and Dolores (even though it was in none of their departments) were amongst the ones who came up with the _“Decree On Werewolves Population Control”_ , which despite its rather enigmatical and justifiable title, was the one that enable the mass-murders of those.

The decree passed about a week after Cissa told him about Teddy.

Severus had found that, once he had decided to honour an obligation of some sort, it would suddenly begin to matter to him. Therefore, since he had Teddy’s father hidden in Spinner’s already, it only was proper to get the child back for him as well. The occasion presented itself on its own – he would have never directly asked for it, because even Narcissa wouldn’t have believed that he could have had a change of heart of this sort without any apparent cause. However, she was the one who asked him for support, not the other way round.

It was rather apparent from Lucius’ treatment of the boy, that he was part of the incentive against the lycanthropes. The not-yet-sworn-in Minister of Magic wanted to redirect the focus from the Ministry’s failure at capturing the scattered remnants of the so-called rebellion, and the werewolves were an easy target. On top of that, he had a personal disgust towards them all, which escalated exactly because of Edward Lupin, whom his wife had decided to rescue. For all of the child’s time there, Lucius referred to him as ‘the thing’ and with such loathing, that even if Severus did not have any hidden agenda behind his eagerness for “doing Narcissa’s blood a favour”, he would have probably considered taking the boy away. For the sake of sparing Cissa the pain of watching that, if nothing else.

The decree passed exactly three days after he had agreed to take him.

Severus was now so used to the ground suddenly sliding from underneath his feet and switching places with the sky, that he wasn’t even surprised.

 _Well... so I did not die, as I should have. Pity. Then I took in a stray Order Member, which of course had to be the stray wolf. And now it’s a stray beast, whose son I have agreed to raise –_ he thought, almost languorously.

Lucius Malfoy was still nothing but appalled at the very existence of Teddy. He did not seem to mind, however, that Severus decided to adopt the boy. _A half-breed fits with a half-blood, does he not?_ Either it was that, or simply the relief of not having Edward at his manor for any longer. He even offered to help with the procedure and stemmed two laws, which would have sentenced the child to death, from passing (which wasn’t as easy as it sounded, since the ruthless machine of bureaucracy, once propelled, was rather hard to restrain). Severus was quite thankful to him for that.

The child was... well – a small child. It had big eyes and an almost hairless head with strands of thin brown curls. It spent most of its time sleeping or putting things in its mouth. It often needed to be supported to sit straight, wasn’t yet able to eat on its own and liked fluffy toys of animals. Children were supposed to invoke some kind of affectionate instincts in people, but all this one invoked in Severus was, at best, surprise and scientific curiosity.

_Oh, so that thing makes him cry. Oh, so this head-tilt means he’s interested in something. And this expression – that he is afraid._

_Oh, the eye-colour change corresponds to mood and azure means calm. Damned Tonks’ shape-shifting._ “Why did you get Narcissa’s colour, out of all people?”

“Laughing? Why are you laughing, Teddy?” _What exactly is funny about me writing? Well, I guess he will not tell me, no matter how many times I ask._

“Oh, come on, stop crying, will you? Why are you crying if you are not hungry? Some of us need to be awake in the morning, Edward.”

“What? You won’t fall asleep this time unless I hum something?” _Merlin have mercy on me - I’ll have to ask the elf to teach me lullabies. Pampered little..._

There was plenty of waking up at night, though not as much as he was worried there would be, and an exhausting amount of glances to check whether the boy was doing okay playing on his blankets. He was pretty sure he had developed a nervous habit of squinting above the pages, in those few weeks.

There was also a lot of exasperated sighs and surprisingly clumsily cast spells, since, for some reason, things like changing a baby, took from mind resources entirely other than the Dark Arts did.

Of course, he had barely any idea on how to take care of a child, hence why he got schooled by Cissa and even by her house elf (probably making him the only Death Eater in existence to take orders from one of those). The house elf, Frankie, who was gifted to him as a part of the sort of layette that Narcissa had prepared for her great-nephew, was now living at Hogwarts, waiting for him ( _us; it’s three people now)_ to move in the Headmaster’s Chambers.

\---

Meanwhile, the headhunt had started and ‘the beasts’, as could have been expected, did not come to meet their fate with their tails between their legs. Even though they were not organised well enough to win even against the not-yet-stable Ministry, and were universally hated by the society, they created their own sort of rebellion.

There were two successful attacks in Hogsmeade since the Decree, and he, as the Headmaster, were to oversee the rounding up of the Forbidden Forest’ pack, because those ones now, apparently, were not so affable anymore. Apart from that, the Prophet kept informing about vicious attacks all over the country and so did the ‘mudblood news’ Severus was sure. Because that was the whole problem with the wolves - they did not unite against the enemy, they simply attacked whatever smelled like a person, on a night of a Full Moon.

Severus heard about the first of the attacks in Hogsmeade on the day he went to buy Teddy a toy, because of course the irony of his life would not let it be otherwise. He had spent the whole day in the less-than-pleasant company of Yaxley and Macnair, so the moment he could leave it, he first acquired the present, then went to the Three Broomsticks to lessen that discomfort slightly.

Over his wine, from the murmurs inside he could learn about the onslaught. The Full Moon was far away (he was now meticulously tracing that), so at first he was awfully suspicious about that information. Then, he found out it was the Forbidden Forest’s pack, which must have somehow been communicating with the transforming werewolves.

The second victim, however, he saw with his own two eyes. The Forest was still the main place he was acquiring his ingredients, although it was nowhere near as calmly mysterious as it had used to be. The Centaurs had fled, so have most other sentient creatures, but the wolves have remained and gone rabid. Macnair was with him (thankfully he was no herbologist, so Severus could take whatever he needed freely, without him realising that, for example, valerian roots and dittany could be a suspicious combination).

Walden was mainly looking above the ground, anticipating movement with the sort of horrible excitement that Severus was almost envious of, since he himself had lost it a while ago. The child, because of course it would have been a child, lay by a fallen tree, leaning against it as if she was merely sitting on the mossy ground, relaxed. Severus was faster to notice the white-and-red shape standing out from the hues of the forest floor.

It was a girl, younger than a Hogwarts student, though not much, perhaps 9 or 10 years old. She had blonde, straight hair, dangling in crimson-stained tangles from her head. Her cheeks were round with the chubbiness of a little child, but now froze with the rest of the face as a mask of anguish, the mouth open for a scream. She had been bitten only on the neck, but clawed thoroughly, so that her blood-soaked clothes and her flesh formed a sort of a horrible rag doll. No normal animal would have done it that way, a werewolf – would have.

Severus would be lying to himself, if he said he viewed Lupin as entirely human.

Either way, all that only increased the absurdity of the whole situation. The – _it was all accidental, and I am as far from being a fan of werewolves as can be_ – sounded like a particularly badly devised defence for the Wizengamot, for when he was discovered, but it was the truth.

It was, perhaps, the indoctrination. Not a single person around him now believed the werewolves to be people. Even some of the former Hogwarts staff did not seem opposed to the idea of what was to be a massacre in the Forbidden Forest – the attacks certainly weren’t helpful in the wolves’ case. It also was, definitely, the Shack. Severus never forgot the Shack. He never forgot the eyes of a werewolf, awfully similar to Lupin’s eyes.

He was petrified on both the Full Moons, despite being entirely positive that the chances of Lupin waking up were minimal. He had warded the room in which he slept, and, the second time – when Teddy was already there, added a charm on his cradle, which should have prevented the wolf from biting the child, though it was likely to kill Lupin. The spell was complicated, so he did not bother repeating it for his bed, already (as he was for most of the time lately) too washed-out to cast it.

The potion worked as it should have and nothing of the sort happened. A sleeping beast was so tale-like, that apart from those two nights, Severus was barely scared of _it? him? Lupin?_

Once the werewolf woke up, he expected it to get worse.

He squashed the fear, however. The absolute foolishness of Lupin, which he began displaying the second he became conscious again, did not exactly help his case in Severus tolerating his presence, but it did make him seem a lot less dangerous. Besides, Lupin simply accepted his fate – he didn’t act the least bit like he was planning to do something stupid. He even believed in everything Severus was saying (and if the roles were reversed that would never have happened). He also wasn’t furious, contrary to what Severus had expected him to be. He was now more nosy and irritable than Severus had remembered him to be, but with the confusion _and well, the loses of war,_ that was understandable, besides – it was an almost pleasant alternative to his typical grovelling.

Lupin also was on-the-verge-of-crying grateful once he actually ensured with his own two eyes that Teddy was safe and sound. _And would a beast ever cry? Even about its cub?_

As a father he was also more bearable in terms of character – he suddenly grew a spine (his arguing to move the cradle to his room was as annoying as it was admirable) and was busy enough not to ask Severus about things he wasn’t sure how to break to him without raising panic.

\---

On the day Severus went to take Teddy from the Manor, the werewolf was still suffering from the adverse effects of his Anty-transformation Draught. That manifested as him not eating (Severus had brought breakfast food from Hogwarts the night before, because the elves insisted he took it, so once again they didn’t need to cook) and being incredibly pokey and ungainly.

_At least I hope this can be attributed to the Draught. Otherwise I will have to update the rules to ‘you are not to walk anywhere around me, for fear of you accidentally killing us both in the most ridiculous manner – with the shards of a glass cup’._

Lupin, despite his general lack of strength and will, could, however, muster the energy to repay his debts of malignancy, it looked like.

When Severus was leaving to get Teddy (though he hadn’t informed the wolf about that yet), again with Floo portal, Lupin was lying on the bed in the library, doing, seemingly, nothing. He had a collection of newspapers, which Severus was having delivered to the Headmaster’s office and them bringing them to Spinner’s, by his side, but was simply staring at the ceiling. His eyes travelled from it and onto Severus, when he entered the room. He scanned him with attention and, while Severus was lighting up the fireplace (he had been wondering why Lupin was apparently impervious to the heat, but had decided the answer could have something to do with wolfishness, so he did not risk asking) cleared his throat.

Then, Lupin spoke: “You are actually looking presentable. Washed your hair and all... Are you heading for the Manor then?”

Severus wished he had remained silent. He sent him a look, which, he hoped, conveyed that discontent, then turned away and began opening the Floo jar.

“What?” the werewolf said, in an almost offended tone. “I thought we were allowed to jab at each other’s appearances now.”

 _And what are you telling that from?_ – Severus wondered. Though, in a moment he remembered that he did comment on Lupin’s new scarring in the morning, and on his beard yesterday... Yeah, perhaps he had provoked it. Still, that gave him no right to say such things, in Severus’ opinion.

Thankfully, the important precautions considering him bringing Teddy back, since he had to that with apparition and not the Floo, because the ash wasn’t best for kids, had been talked through earlier, because now they would have turned into taunting.

“You – aren’t.” he told Lupin over his arm.

“Oh, and why is that? What are you going to do, Severus, throw me out, perhaps?” he inquired, with quite the hint of sarcasm.

_I gave him that weapon myself. Circe, if I ever again feel the need to be sincere, I’ll talk to Albus’ mirror._

“No--“ he answered, without missing a beat. “—I will hex you. And leave you to deal with that the muggle way.”

The wolf made a mocking impression of trembling with fear, but since he did not see Severus noticing that, he decided to be so gracious as to ignore it, and left for the Manor.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teddy Lupin was too young to remember his parents. He was too young to even realise that they were his parents, because many people and things didn’t have proper names for Teddy yet. However, he did remember a duck.

The Duck was yellow-beaked, pink-haired and would often lean over his cradle to sing songs to him in her quacking voice. He remembered a man, too. A man, who lifted him high above the ground and who had bright eyes, the colour of a sweet thing the Duck once gave Teddy. The man wore sweaters, which scratched Teddy’s cheek when he was hugging him, almost as much as the hair on his chin did. The Man-in-Sweaters would sometimes creep behind the Duck and hug her (her, because Teddy knew that the Duck looked like a woman to people other than him) tightly. Then, they would both kiss Teddy goodnight on the forehead. Every now and then, the Duck would instead poke him with her beak and Teddy would laugh.

Teddy also recalled a house, in which that happened – there was another woman in that house. She looked a little like the Duck, and the Duck, who, Teddy knew, was really called ‘Tonks’, ‘Dora’, ‘Love’ or ‘Mummy’, called her ‘Mother Dear’ in a tone that made the woman laugh. The Man-in-Sweaters referred to her as ‘Mum’, and she called him ‘Remus’ or ‘Son’. Teddy was to recall that later, because there was another woman, in a much bigger house, who resembled Mother Dear and who also used the word ‘son’ a lot.

Mother Dear’s house was small, but it had more air in it than the house with people with hair coloured like the big, ball-like fruit. There was also a girl with dark skin in that house sometimes and she read Teddy books with pictures that didn’t move. The girl would come with a boy, who, like her, had darker skin and hair than the rest and a funny line on his head, that he didn’t let Teddy touch. The people with fruit-coloured hair were both men and women, and they all were very nice to Teddy. The older ones seemed rather nervous, most of the time, but the younger played with him a lot and chuckled brightly all the while. Teddy couldn’t remember their names very well, especially since some of them were very similar to each other in looks, but he heard them collectively being called “the Weezlies”. He assumed that meant something like “family” and he thought of them that way anyways, so it was all right.

There was a lot of sounds, smells and colours to explore in the Weezlies’ House, so Teddy was almost sad that, when the Duck and the Man-in-Sweaters left him, it wasn’t there but with Mother Dear. Especially since Mother Dear, once they departed, seemed very unlike herself – she wasn’t smiling as much and didn’t sing Teddy a funny song to sleep, only a more subdued one. She had never behaved like that before, even though the Duck and the Man-in-Sweaters would, sometimes, disappear, leaving Teddy with her. Teddy knew they would always come back. Then, a few days went by and Mother Dear was still very sad, even sadder than before, perhaps and they still weren’t coming home.

Soon, there came an owl (Teddy knew from the Duck’s impressions of other birds what an owl looked like, but there were also smaller owls, like the ones at Weezlies’). This owl was as small as those at the Weezlies’, but she looked very unlike them – it was grey and scary. When it pierced Teddy with its plate-like eyes when it landed on the window sill, he began crying. Mother Dear was very good at noticing him crying, so she ran to him from the kitchen and took him in his arms. Then she saw the bird.

It wasn’t long until she began crying too, when she took the thing the owl brought and read it. She quickly wrote something of her own on a piece of paper and gave it to the owl, speaking to it softly and patting it gently on the head. Then, she disappeared upstairs for a while and returned with a bag. She took Teddy out of his cradle and held him very close to herself (which, Teddy knew, meant they were going to twirl and whirl in space until they would land in some other house), but nothing of the sort happened.

Instead, the door flew open and some people in black and green, who looked very scary to Teddy, entered the House. Those new people pulled Mother Dear away from him. Then there was a bright light and one of the bad, new people fell down, but another hit Mother Dear with a beam of red and she fell to the ground too. Teddy started wailing loudly. The bad people took Mother Dear and one of them took Teddy as well. Teddy kept crying all the way. When he arrived in a big, intimidating building, somebody gave him milk to drink and Teddy didn’t want to, because he was still very sad and mad at what happened, but he didn’t have a choice.

He woke up sometime after that and another woman, who looked a little like Mother Dear, but with different hair and eye-colour, was watching him. She smiled at him and it was Mother Dear’s smile, definitely, but without the warmth. The woman had hair part blonde, part dark brown, almost black, which Teddy found very amusing. Not enough for him to forget that Mother Dear disappeared, of course, but enough to stop crying about it for a while. The woman took him from this unknown place, with dark walls and bad people. She was less cold than her smile, though when she hugged him, in the about-to-whirl way, she shuddered, as if with pain or disgust. The Black-and-White Woman transported Teddy to a new house, a big one, which too was rather dark.

In the Big House there weren’t many smells, pictures or melodies. Sometimes there would be one, continuous sound coming from the huge black thing that stood nearby his cradle. Teddy enjoyed falling asleep to that sound, but apart from that – there was mainly silence. There was a lot of air in this house (and Teddy knew that the more air there was, the louder he had to cry to be heard) and very few people. There also was no sign of either Mother Dear, or the Duck and the Man-in-Sweaters coming back.

There was the Woman, who brought him there and who was kind to Teddy. She spent a lot of time with him, but he missed all the previous people, so he cried in her arms nonetheless. The Woman gave Teddy a lot of things to play with, not only her funny-coloured hair, and she showed him the dogs and the peacocks. Teddy was afraid of the dogs, because they would sometimes bare their teeth at him, but he liked the peacocks, so he was delighted every time she took him on a walk to the gardens in the pushchair. She didn’t hold him very often, not as often as the other women he had met used to, at least, but when she did, Teddy noticed that she smelled intensively of flowers, which was very pleasant. He liked the plump woman’s from the Weezlies’ House smell better (it was the one of cookies and love), but this one was nice too. The Woman also sang him songs in her clear, Mother-Dear-like voice when the big black thing played melodies, and she spoke to him a lot, about whatever Teddy seemed interested in, at the time.

The Black-and-White Woman didn’t always come to his aid when he woke up in the night, unlike Mother Dear, the fluffy woman at the Weezlies’ house, or the Duck and Man-in-Sweaters previously did. But there would always come someone, Teddy knew, and at this Big House, the Someones were small, had stork-like beaks and enormous shiny eyes. There was a few of those Someones here, and, like with the Weezlies, they were similar to each other, so sometimes Teddy couldn’t differentiate between them, but he liked them best out of all of the House’s locators. They hugged and dandled him, gave him milk and food and tugged him tight into his silver blanket with snakes on it.

There was also a Man, who called the Woman ‘Darling’, which made Teddy a little confused, because he had thought it was only the Duck’s name. The Man was as tall as the Man-in-Sweaters, but he wasn’t half as nice. He wore long, smooth-looking clothes, but Teddy didn’t know for sure, because the man never hugged him. He never touched him at all, unless he was crossing the room to kiss the Woman on the cheek, but even then he did so with a long stick that he carried in his hand. The Man was as scary as the people that took Teddy away and his presence made him cry sometimes, which made the Man purse his lips and look at Teddy as if he was something very awful. He looked the same way at the Someones, who all seemed terrified of him. Teddy didn’t like him at all and he didn’t understand why all the others were always so kind to the Man, despite his behaviour.

Then there was the Boy, who the Woman called ‘Son’ or ‘Draco’. At first, when the Woman introduced Teddy to him, he thought it was the Man again, but with slightly shorter hair, because they were very similar, only the Boy didn’t have wrinkles from frowning contemptuously.

The Boy, as he told Teddy, was called a ‘Dragon’, but in another language. Teddy knew what a dragon was, because the Duck could shape-shift into one as well, and while he thought them less amusing than he did the birds, he had seen her do that a few times. The Boy looked nothing like a dragon, he mostly just looked sad. He played with Teddy a lot, but, dissimilar to the young Weezlies, he rarely laughed. Unlike the Woman, to whom he referred to as ‘Mother’, he didn’t seem to mind sitting very close to Teddy though, and that was nice, because without his help Teddy would never be able to play with most of his toys.

In the former houses there weren’t many toys, but here – there was almost too many of them. Most of them, though not all, were new. The Dragon-Boy showed him the self-building blocks, and said he used to have those too. They were amazing, in Teddy’s opinion, but he couldn’t quite get them to listen to him. However, when he looked into the Dragon-Boys eyes and thought about, for example, a castle, the Boy would then turn to the blocks and they would build one, exactly like Teddy wanted it. He mostly wanted them to build the Weezlies’ house, however, but the Boy refused to help him with that whenever the Man (who he called ‘Father’) was around. Teddy had no idea why that was so, but he complied, not wanting to upset the Boy even further than he usually was.

Teddy also liked the teething ring that hissed and writhed like a small snake when he nipped at it (he wasn’t scared of snakes, because there was so many of them in this house and none of them ever bit him), the fluffy lion which roared when he hugged his chest, and the duck, which he got later, after he met the Black Hawk.

Teddy didn’t have a good sense of the passing of time yet, so he only knew that the Hawk began coming to the room in which Teddy slept, after the day on which the Man and the Woman shouted at each other. The Hawk, like everyone in this House except for the Someones, had long hair too. His was black and silky and tickled Teddy’s cheeks when he leaned down at his cradle. The Hawk was a man, taller than the other men Teddy had met, and wore a cape that made him look a little less like a bird and more like a dragon with black wings, or a bat. The Boy called him ‘Professor’, the Woman and the Man both called him ‘Severus’, but Teddy called him ‘a Hawk’, in his mind, because he had seen one (in the Duck’s displays, as well) and even all the black on him couldn’t fool a child’s mind – his beak was certainly a hawk’s one.

He was a little scary, almost as much as the Man, even though he didn’t send Teddy threatening glances like he did. However, Teddy didn’t cry when the Hawk first appeared over the rail of his cradle. He knew his smell, from before, from the Woman’s hair (of course, her hair smelled of the Man too, but this scent was almost as flowery as her own, not as harsh as the Man’s). The Hawk kept appearing in the house a lot, in the next few days. He mainly talked to the three people (the Mother, Father and Boy), but always visited Teddy at the end.

One day, he brought him the fluffy duck, which quacked almost exactly like the Duck did, and when he put it inside the cradle, Teddy noticed that he had a snake on his arm (a drawing of it, with some other shape that looked like a weird head, to Teddy) and that the skin around it was very pink. When the Hawk realised what Teddy was staring at, he pulled his sleeve back down abruptly, but he smiled at him nevertheless (it wasn’t a very nice smile, but Teddy thought it looked funny on his face, so he grinned back). Teddy liked the new toy and he liked the Hawk, too. Therefore, when the Hawk took him away from the Big House later, he didn’t cry in protest.

The new house was the ‘Spinner’s House’, as the Hawk called it to him, though the only spinning there was, was when they travelled there – Teddy with his cheek against the soft cloth of the Hawk’s robe, which reminded him of the sweaters a bit, though it was less prickly than they had been. The moment they landed in the house, however, Teddy got put away into the (then blanket-less) cradle and he cried, so the Hawk made a face at him and picked him up again.

“Coddled little brat, aren’t you, Teddy?” he said then, in a silky voice, holding him with one hand and unpacking his things with the other. In that hand, left, so the one with the snake-drawing that he hid, he was holding a long black stick (not as long as the Man’s one, though) and he gestured at the black bag with it, so that it opened. Two silver blankets, the pillow, Teddy’s clothes and his favourite toys all flew out of it, one by one, and placed themselves in different parts of the room. Teddy watched it happen with awe, as he always did when somebody around him used their magic stick – the Boy and the Woman made the candles change colour with them, for example, and Teddy would giggle when he saw that. Now he also began giggling with delight, and the Hawk smiled at him in response, so he laughed even harder.

Next, the Hawk, still holding Teddy in his arms steadily, showed him around the house. It was small, but that was good, because it meant it didn’t need Teddy’s loud crying. The ‘water-room’ did have a picture that showed Teddy and the Hawk together, but, unlike the ones in the other houses – it didn’t speak to them, which was a little disappointing. However, the ‘here-we-eat’ room had a glistening silver closet in it and inside that closet there was both food and a light, which was almost as amusing as the stick-controlled candles, so he forgot all about the non-speaking picture. There was no special chair for Teddy in that room (and in the other houses there used to be), but, as he was to later discover, the Hawk’s magic stick could make anything turn into such a chair.

Then there was also a dark room, darker than the one Teddy slept in the Big House. “This is my lab and you are not to try to get inside it. Ever.” the Hawk instructed him. Teddy didn’t understand him, but he would never want to enter that room either way, because it had so many smells (more than the Weezles’ house), that his little head began hurting the second they got closer to it. Luckily, the Hawk stepped outside it shortly and he then closed the door behind them, so the scents could all stay inside. Maybe he saw Teddy grimace, who knew, he was definitely very perceptive.

At last, the Hawk pushed a heavy door, the only one that wasn’t ajar when they arrived (unlike in the Big House, here all the doors stood open most of the time) and they landed in a room that Teddy instantly recognised. He had never been in it, of course, but it smelled like something he knew. It smelled like the Man-in-Sweaters, he realised. Indeed, the Man-in-Sweaters was inside it, but he didn’t have a sweater on, only some kind of a silky robe, which reminded Teddy, unpleasantly, of the Man, so he started crying.

“Hey, no crying.” Hawk said to him and brought him closer to himself. “That is Dad. Remus. He is sleeping. And it is all good, he will wake up in a few weeks.” He pulled out a green cloth from somewhere and wiped Teddy’s cheeks from the tears. “You do not understand, yet, but you can never tell anyone that this is your dad, or that he is here. We will have to work on it, but that is for tomorrow.” he informed, his black eyes looking into Teddy’s reassuringly.

Teddy stopped crying and reached towards the bed on which the Man-in-Sweaters slept.  
_Dad_ – Teddy thought, simply. The Hawk leaned towards the bed, so that Teddy could touch him. Dad’s beard was as prickly as it used to be, though even longer than he remembered it, and his breaths tickled Teddy’s cheek slightly, when the Hawk held him above the bed. Once Teddy had gotten a little bored looking at Dad, who for some reason, wasn’t waking up just yet (the difference between ‘few seconds’ and ‘few weeks’ was mostly the sound of the second word, in Teddy’s view), they left the room and soon Teddy was fast asleep under the blanket with snakes.

The next day Hawk did sit with Teddy on a blanket on the floor of the room they both slept in, and kept waving the stick at him and whispering things he couldn’t understand. He repeated that procedure a few times in the weeks after that, but Teddy didn’t mind, following the lights springing out of the stick with his eyes wide with attention and the mouth open, each time.

The following who-knew-how-long was similar to Teddy’s life in The First House, before, and Teddy was rather happy here, in Spinner’s House. If he cried in the night - the Hawk would immediately appear above the cradle (he was faster at that than the Someones and Mother Dear, though not than the Duck). When he was hungry – he was fed, when he was cold – he’d get another blanket. When he was bored – he could play with his toys (some of them didn’t travel with him to the new house, but he got two new ones – fluffy bears, and he liked them quite, even though they didn’t make any sounds or move on their own). When he was just missing all the other people that he used to have around before – the Hawk would (though always somewhat reluctantly) hug him. And when he tried to grab the Hawk’s beak – he’d make a face and say “I see that you are an insolent little brat already, Edward” (who was Edward - Teddy didn’t know) in an amused tone.

The Hawk also brought him into the Dad’s room a lot – he would sit in the huge black chair in the corner and Teddy would lay or clumsily sit on the blanket on the ground, sometimes trying to crawl to the bed, only to then be lifted up an placed on the duvet, so that he could touch Dad. Teddy felt very safe in that room, partly because of the familiar smell and the presence of Dad (even though he was still annoyingly asleep), and partly because of the watchful gaze of the Hawk. Therefore, for playing, he preferred it to the ‘sleeping-room’. It also eased Teddy’s longing for the Duck, the Weezlies’ and Mother Dear, being in there, and due to all that he certainly cried less now than he had done before, in the Big House.

He still cried when something hurt him, however, and when he did - the Hawk would either wave his stick and it would stop, or, if it was the teeth, he’d sigh deeply and leave him with his teething ring. Teddy had noticed that he’d then disappear into the ‘many-smells-room’, coming out of it every time he tried to put in his mouth something that he had been told not to (which was – a lot, because Teddy had, lately, discovered that there was many books in this house, often not too high for him to reach them, so he would gnaw at their covers). Finally, he’d emerge, smelling of numerous things Teddy did not know the names of, take Teddy into the here-we-eat room and give him something sweet to drink. Then - the pain would stop.

The Hawk would also take him on journeys, though rarely. They were to a big, cold building made of stone, which reminded Teddy of the place with bad people, especially since there were men and women who looked similar to them around. But Teddy wasn’t crying in there, because there were plenty of Someones to take care of him, and because he heard the Hawk speak to the bad-looking people and they were all afraid of him, so Teddy knew he was safe as long as Hawk was there.

The big building, as it turned out when they went outside, was a castle, like the one the Boy had once built for him, on his own, with the blocks. It was, from what Teddy remembered, called something like ‘Hogh-qortz’. At Hogh-qortz, Teddy would lie in a cradle, with another, golden-and-silver set of blankets, and the Hawk would sit at a desk in front of him, hunching over paper for very long whiles. Then he would sometimes disappear, leaving Teddy with a Someone, and come back looking very scary, but he never shouted when Teddy was around, not even at the Someones, like the Man did. They would always return to the Spinner’s House when it got dark outside, and Teddy would wake up from his sleep when they landed there, spinning.

After some time in the Spinner’s House, the Hawk took him back to the Big House and he brought his things, too, so Teddy started crying, because he thought the Hawk was going to leave him now, as well. Teddy was tired of people he liked disappearing. But the Hawk told him that he would return and he did, at the end of the day. Then, after some more days, he left Teddy in the Big House again and this time Teddy was calmer, because he knew he was sure he would be back. He started worrying (and crying) only when a whole day went by and the Hawk wasn’t back. That had happened before, after all – the Duck and the Man-in-Sweaters would always return, until one day they didn’t, so Teddy panicked a little that this would take place again. He couldn’t sleep that night too well – he kept waking up, convinced that the Hawk would never return and wailing because of it.

The Boy, who had never before entered Teddy’s sleeping-room in the Big House, came to comfort him, along with a Someone. The Someone was as scared of him as it was of his Father, Teddy noticed, so when he dismissed it, it bowed so hard its beak almost touched the ground.

The Boy put Teddy out of the cradle and spoke to him, softly. “Snape—“ he began “--or Hawk—“ (that part he whispered) and Teddy was already happier, because the Boy understood him so well, so he stilled. “—will be back in two days. He has important matters to take care of, you know, Teddy? Hogwarts and everything.”

He didn’t know. In fact, he had no idea what ‘important matters’ meant.

“I wonder if you’ll be living in the school with him--“the Dragon-Boy continued, but Teddy did not remember what he said next, because he fell asleep to the monotone sound of his slow voice very soon.

The Dragon-Boy didn’t lie and indeed, the Hawk came back after two more days, which Teddy had spent mainly in the Boy’s company, playing with the toys - the blocks, the dancing little figures that he was only allowed to look at and the ball that changed into whatever object the Boy named out loud. Teddy wasn’t bored or sad, anymore, but still, he was very happy when the Hawk returned. He heard him and the Woman were speaking of the ‘important matters’ too, before Hawk took Teddy with his things, and, once he had kissed the Woman’s hand, they left.

They arrived in the sleeping-room, as usual, but this time, Teddy already noticed something was off – the door was closed. The Hawk left the bag on the floor and, not a second later, Teddy heard a familiar, raspy voice “May I come in yet?”.

“You may not.” the Hawk answered, firmly. To Teddy, however, he spoke more softly “Dad has woken up. You will see him in a moment.” He then pulled out the magic stick, waved it around muttering something, and then said, turning to the door: “Now.”

The door opened and on its threshold the Man-in-Sweaters stood, smiling widely, even though his eyes seemed very wet. Once the Hawk saw that Teddy wanted to hug the man (he reached towards him the moment he saw him), he stepped towards the door and handed Teddy _to Dad._ Dad had a black robe on, again, and a very velvety one, as Teddy felt the moment he pulled him close to himself. His chin wasn’t as scratchy, too. He smelled like safety and affection, and was very warm. Dad kissed Teddy on the forehead and on both cheeks, and water rolled down onto his skin, which was weird, because crying was for sad things and Dad, despite his eyes, seemed rather fine to Teddy. His breath tickled Teddy’s skin, when he whispered, to his ear, that he loved him the most in the world.

Teddy had never been happier than to see him then.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ever since Severus brought Teddy, Remus regained his energy, at least enough of it to spend whole days on his feet, mainly with the child, and actually enjoy it (even though, when one was mostly left alone to do that, it was extremely tiring sometimes).

Severus would now disappear early in the morning and come back long after sundown, looking exhausted. He wasn’t garrulous at all, not even in the nagging way, and Remus wondered what that had to do with. Not the disgust and fear of Remus that would doubtlessly come with the Moon, since that was still far away, but something, clearly, because his manner became more acerbic and silent, with a few exceptions. They were, however, able to avoid conflicts (if one didn’t count the occasional jab) – like two particularly uncommunicative roommates, one of which (Remus) was usually eager to get out of the other’s way, at least once his post-potion annoyance had left him.

Remus had finally started reading the _“Hindering”_ and was halfway through it currently, almost permanently stuck on the same page. The witch, with a Russian-sounding name, who wrote it, had a manner of progressing from very digestible language to barely understandable terms. Remus, even though he had been convinced he was well-rounded enough in Occlumency and Legilimency, couldn’t easily decipher them, since she was constantly referencing to other works in the obscure field and those he wasn’t familiar with. His host, he was convinced – probably was. That inspired some fear in Remus, though for now he still wouldn’t dare to touch at the topic, not entirely sure the answers wouldn’t incite him to flee, which he was perfectly aware was out of question. He was still occupied by his grief and the unease, though the presence of Teddy greatly helped him ground himself. He now simply lived from day to day, more preoccupied by whether the child was hungry or bored, than he was by the prospects (or lack of them) for the future.

Severus insisted that the child continued to sleep in the bedroom, not with Remus, allegedly because “There barely would be enough space to move with the cradle in there, Lupin.”. Remus disagreed, but he had no say in it, in the end. Severus did, however, reassure him, that “If you are longing for waking up at night to tend to him, Lupin, then worry not, at Hogwarts your dream will be fulfilled.”

That was perhaps the first time he mentioned the move. Remus had been afraid to ask about it earlier, because he wasn’t sure he would like the answer. Part of him was convinced that he would be left behind, for the convenience of not having to harbour him in a place as full of people as Hogwarts was. _But leave it to Snape to give me valuable (and comforting) information in the form of a deride._

On the second night after Teddy’s arrival, Remus woke up to him crying behind the wall. He waited a moment, expecting Severus to pacify the child. _Do I really, though?_ It was Snape he was speaking of here – a man that made seventeen year-olds cry, not to say younger ones. Severus had indicated that he had been taking care of Teddy before, but he did not have Remus’ confidence, not even Narcissa and her elves did, to be honest, but those, at least have had practice.

Since the crying persisted, Remus stood up and went to the bedroom. The door wasn’t completely closed, so he only lightly pushed at the handle to get inside. It was darker here than in the corridor, somehow, (probably because Severus preferred to keep the curtains drawn tightly for the night), so at first Remus didn’t notice the figure lumbering out of the bed and entered.

“Lupin.” he heard Severus hiss, immediately. “Get out, will you? I can manage.” he whispered.

Remus did as he was told, but he left the door ajar enough so that he could see Severus handling the child. He just _had to_ ascertain that all was fine. Remus stood in the corridor, in the shadow and watched for a while, as Severus approached the cradle. He leaned down over it, whispered something, then lifted the child, quite deftly, waved his wand around Teddy and in the slightly pink gleam of the spell Remus saw the child’s face no longer contorted by a grimace. Next, Severus did what would best be classified an extremely inept attempt at hugging Teddy tightly, then dandled him in his arms humming something softly. Finally, he put him back into the cradle - the baby was, of course, no longer crying.

Severus had noticed him observing that scene, but only after his focus shifted from the child. Remus tried not to look positively shocked and amused (he didn’t know what he had expected, but certainly not that Severus would act like an actual responsible adult-parent). He most likely failed to do so, because Severus closed the door inches from his nose with a swipe of his wand looking rather irritated, as far as Remus could deduce in the dark, at least.

Teddy was never a particularly loud child, even by oversensitive ears’ standards, so Remus wasn’t surprised that in next week he only woke up to his crying once more. This time, however, he only listened in – for Severus’ steps, then murmur, then silence.

Severus paid a lot of attention to the child, even though Teddy was now mainly in Remus’ care. For the meals which (provided Remus woke up early enough) they sometimes ate together, Severus would transfigure a chair for one adapted for toddlers. He would reapply the charm every day in the morning and the seat was made so that even a child this young could use it, as Remus observed with appreciation. Severus was the quicker to notice when Teddy was trying to throw his bottle down, just like, on the rare occasion that he was in the house during the day, he was more apt at predicting what was going to be the next thing Teddy would try to gnaw at. He was also surprisingly lax with his privacy – “When the child is sleeping in my bedroom during the day, you may enter it if you must, Lupin.”, though only when Teddy was in question (Remus was rather sure Snape would have a fit, if he had found out about the reconnaissance he conducted on his first day).

By the end of the week, when Snape announced that the adopting procedure has been completed and that Teddy was now officially Edward Prince (Severus’ mother’s maiden name, as he managed to squeeze out of the man), Remus had almost reconciled with the idea of him being the adoptive father in more than the documents, if he so wished. He was a lot better with small children – well, specifically this one, at least – that Remus could have foreseen.

 _Uncle Severus. The scary uncle, who is suddenly nice when left alone with the child. Well, that could pass. It would be like that, if we managed to escape with the rest anyways – though there, there would be a whole lot of uncles, uncle Weasleys... Or not anymore –_ he remembered grievingly – _now there’d only be a few of those, I suppose._

There were numerous instances when Remus wanted to hit the man in the face (like every time he’d be called a synonym or periphrasis of ‘an idiot’), though he’d never have the courage or actual will to do so in his current situation. However, all in all – sharing the small space of the Spinner’s End house with Severus Snape turned out to be an experience less damaging than he would have expected.

Snape genuinely caring for Teddy did raise Remus’ opinion of him, even though he still thought of him as a traitor and Death Eater every now and then.

He wondered apprehensively, however, about the changes that could be to come once they moved to Hogwarts, which, while more familiar, was also filled with people and elves – thus more dangerous. The fact that Severus was reluctant to give him any details on his own, was absolutely maddening, but Remus had no option but to endure it calmly (quarrelling with Snape rarely brought any useful results, because the man could hold a grudge for, well, good 20 years, as far as he knew). Besides – the Full Moon was approaching, like an immensely slow-paced guillotine for Remus’ neck.


	3. The Move

Severus dreaded the permanent relocation to Hogwarts, but was acutely aware that delaying it could only cause even more issues. And he was enough of a schemer (or an over-thinker, as Dumbledore would have called it, even though he was one too), to have found numerous already.

The main problem for now was the secrecy. Albus wasn’t half as paranoid as Severus had to be, but the Office and the adjacent Headmaster’s Chambers had a series of facilities that he was now making good use of.

The Portraits could be turned blind and deaf with a single spell, which he found in Albus’ desk’s drawer when he took the post previously. He was rather sure the former headmaster had never used that charm, but predicted that Severus could prefer the quiet to the unsolicited advice from Fortescue, Dippet and the rest.

In his first year as a Headmaster, the portraits (especially Albus’ one, for the re-hanging of which he was currently battling with Umbridge, the Censor) had been his perhaps only consolation in a castle full of enemies. Currently however, though not much had changed in terms of the staff and their feelings towards him, he would have had enough talking for his whole life if he began to actually answer Lupin’s questions. Therefore, far over-satisfied with the amount of social interaction as it was, Severus now only un-spelled them for visitors, though always with a gap before the guest’s arrival, so that the resentful rambling would stop before they crossed the threshold.

“Never have we ever had a headmaster who would treat his predecessors with such lack of respect.” Phineas Black said to him, when Severus spelled him silent after he asked him about the Battle of Hogwarts. _Well then, at least I’m special._

The protections on the chambers were still strong – this part of the castle had barely been scratched during the battle, so he did not have to repeat the charms as a part of the restoration (and thankfully so, because without Flitwick or another good Charms Master at his disposal currently, that would prove difficult). No sound could escape and not a mouse could enter without permission. Severus sincerely hoped they could contain a howl, growl, yelp or whatever the sound of a conscious werewolf during transformation was.

There was plenty of space in the Headmaster’s Chambers, more than Severus alone could possibly need. The windows, because of course Dumbledore’s bedroom would have an enormous window and so would his kitchen, were guarded by the same charm his at Spinner’s End were. He did not make them change into smaller ones back when he took the post before the Battle, and wasn’t planning to do so now either. Although, perhaps, he would add equally tall curtains this time, since the glass-dimming spell turned the rooms completely dark for the night and he had a suspicion that would not go well with a toddler.

The elves could only enter the chambers, though the anti-apparition jinx seemed to include them in the further rooms. The food too could travel from the kitchen to the chambers without making any loopholes that could be abused. The door from the office would disappear into the wall at will, to then hide behind a set of bookcases, and would only let in the authorized.

Severus was sure he had spent more time checking all of that ad nauseam, than he did actually overseeing the reconstruction of the building.

At least for now he pushed away the thoughts concerning what was to begin with the start of September ( _though I may well be in Azkaban by that time if I fail to be careful_ ), in favour of panicking over matters as meagre and manageable as which defences were already in place and which he’d need to add.

Amongst the apartments there was one room, at the end, whose door too would disappear into the wall once it was not being used, now – the wolf’s room.

By ’the wolf-room’, surprisingly to himself, Severus did not mean – the room in which Lupin were to spend the rest of his days until another war would break out. He had read enough muggle psychology books (and had seen enough people tortured by the most creative minds), to understand that he couldn’t keep him from wandering around at least on the limited space he had at his disposal, unless he wanted to experience a psychotic Lupin. Therefore Severus had to resign himself to having the man as his roommate again and to sharing the whole living space with him.

However, here arose the question of Teddy, or, more precisely – a barrage of questions. 

_Who is to take care of the child – an elf or the father?_ If Lupin, then how long could one person do that before going crazy?

Severus had only had three weeks of it all alone, and even then he had help from Frankie at Hogwarts and Narcissa in the Manor. Therefore, he could imagine what the conjoined forces of grief, confinement and constant alertness for the child’s needs could do to Lupin and he certainly did not wish to deal with the aftermath of it. Also, in the eyes of on-lookers that would seem as if Severus was leaving the child for whole days alone. While that would definitely fit the image he wanted to sustain (and had little chance of being disturbing to the DE members of staff) – what if someone began snooping?

If an elf, however – how would Lupin take that? If a combination of both – the elf would have to be aware of everything. Then, what if someone tortured Frankie to get the truth out of her? Could Severus’ mind-wards for the child work on an elf as well?

 _Where is Teddy to sleep?_ Either in the room with the father, but then again – possible visitors had to be able to see the cradle without noticing any signs of Lupin living there, or with him. Goddamned suddenly brave Lupin had, of course, already fought for the former option, and it wasn’t like Severus wished to wake up at night all that much, so he did tilt towards it.

However, then there came another issue - what about the transformation? He would rather not have Lupin transform in the same room in which the kid would sleep at other times, though couldn’t give any solid argument in favour of that.

Furthermore – the kid, according to Frankie, could not be left completely alone, without a wizard capable of reacting to his distress around, at least not for the first year of his life. At least unless Teddy would be under the constant guard of an elf who would then wake said wizard up, which, somehow, didn't seem like an enticing perspective (child's crying was much better, frankly). 

Severus finally came to a horrifying conclusion that it would be best if he and Lupin somehow shared a room. Horrifying, because, while Lupin asleep didn’t scare him, the reverse of that definitely did, though hopefully with all of his duties Severus would usually leave before he’d wake up and return long after both the other locators were asleep.

 _What is Lupin, in confinement, to do for whole days, except for fathering?_ – that thought also crossed his mind. He decided on accumulating the books that have been deemed ‘depraving for students’ and thus were to be removed from the library – mainly anything that mentioned the existence of muggles without contempt. Similarly with werewolves, of course, though he doubted there was anything that Lupin had not read on that matter.

 _And how do I fit Narcissa and Lucius into this messed up mosaic?_ He did not owe them anything, they were currently even, or maybe it was Narcissa who was indebted to him, from her perspective. However, keeping the Malfoys close was a prerequisite to remain in power and therefore – safe. With the amount of things Severus had on his plate this could prove difficult, but it was perhaps the most important thing for securing his own reign over Hogwarts and Teddy’s future, if anything happened,.

The ramifications of all this, were that over a week before the move, he began having trouble sleeping again (and in his current schedule there was no time for draught-brewing). Lupin seemed to have noticed, tiptoeing around him like he had used to in Hogwarts’ staff room, years ago, but he didn’t ask. Severus could have, perhaps, loaded all the problems onto the werewolf nevertheless, but it wasn’t customary for him to do such a thing.

\---

The day after Severus officially told him that they were moving to Hogwarts, Lupin began flinging his galling questions at him on that topic; “How are we going to get to the castle unnoticed?” was obviously the main of them.

Severus, very much set on drinking his almost-midnight liquorice tea in peace after he had spent a particularly long day at the school restoring the staircases in Gryffindor Tower, wasn’t happy when Lupin entered the kitchen with a meek “Hello Severus” and that question on his lips.

“All you need to know is that we will.” he answered brusquely.

Truth was, at that point he still wasn’t entirely sure. He could have a plan involving the Invisibility Potion, but that would cost him a lot of time which he didn’t have. Floo was definitely out, because it left an obvious trail, so it was only good for his personal travels, which were mostly legal.

Apparition straight to the castle was obviously out of question, because the jinxes still worked in most of the area and Severus wasn’t planning to splinch himself, or Lupin, to pieces by landing in some half-deactivated spot. Apparating to the Forest was possible, but dangerous with just one wand ( _and one additional werewolf)_ , besides – they could happen upon somebody there, since Yaxley had ordered the Eaters residing in Hogwarts to assess how to get to the wolves living there. Severus was also reluctant to use the house elf for a long distance apparition from Spinner’s, since it would be very traceable. Therefore – for now he had no solid concept of how to transport the man to Hogwarts.

Lupin didn’t seem satisfied with his imprecise curtness, but Severus did not give him another chance to ask in the morning, because he was gone before 6 o’clock. However, Lupin did, unintentionally, bring to his mind an idea that grew there during that day and by the time he was done with his most tedious duties, so late in the evening he had decided it might be worth trying out.

As all the properties he vultured off of from corpses, due to ‘being pragmatic’ and because they looked useful to him, Severus kept what he took from Potter in his office at Hogwarts, inside the desk. When he had the free moment, he whispered “Vorago” and opened the drawer. Inside, on top of the gathered wands, there was an unassuming piece of parchment with a few dark brown stains.

Severus Snape knew it was a map.

Its looks were slightly deceiving, but he had seen it in the hands of his childhood enemy and then, a whole lot later, his son. Since both of those appearances happened around the same spot, where he once (in the meantime) caught the Weasley twins carrying immense loads of butter beer on a non-Hogsmeade day, he had his proof. Sadly, it was not concrete enough to properly punish the guilty ones. That was partly why he was very contented (for a moment at least), when he confiscated the map once. That happened long before the death of its last owner, when said owner, for all he could predict at the time, was trying to meet his untimely end while in 3rd grade.

Severus wasn’t the least bit surprised that the parchment’s owner finally died prematurely. That, in his opinion, was in store for him from the very start with his arrogance and disregard for rules, as colossal as the role he had been designated by fate ( _or Albus Dumbledore_ , though that depended on the perspective). In the end, Potter had the misfortune of meeting a wizard even more over-confident than himself, which brought his demise. Had he been wiser, any more cunning or patient, he would have survived. It was pitiful, really, that he weren’t.

 _Why am I pondering over Potter’s pathetic death, again?_ – Severus abruptly castigated himself and returned to staring down the piece of parchment before him.

Despite its appearance and Lupin’s, at the time – professor Lupin’s – assurances that it was not one, he still very much believed it to be a map. Soon after – he got his final proof when Lupin carelessly left it open on his desk on the night Black and Pettigrew revealed themselves.

The map had now become more of a heirloom than it should ever have, its parchment splattered with dust mixed with blood, which he could not bring himself to clear off of it before. Its sight simultaneously made Severus’ blood boil and lip quiver (very slightly), because as much as he had sincerely hated Potter, the boy _should have lived._

Severus now smoothened out the parchment with his hand and, before he began unfolding it, took out his wand. _It’s high time you were buried, Mr. Potter -_ he thought as he cast the Tergeo. The stubborn splotches disappeared at second try, with Evanesco.

He had a rather bad previous experience with this artefact, so he was sure it would not give out its contents easily, but hopefully, since it had a mind of its own, that mind wasn’t dim enough to ignore the circumstances. He was confident he could ask Lupin for help on this, having heard Black call the man ‘Moony’, when Kreacher deliberately failed to keep his Master’s conversations private from his unwelcome guests. In the present circumstances Lupin was likely to cooperate, but Severus wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t try to be self-sufficient.

Just to be sure, he locked and warded the door before he opened it. A Carrow suddenly appearing inside to inform him about something completely insignificant and noticing the map, perhaps even inquiring dumbly what it was - was a negligible risk, but nevertheless one he wasn’t willing to take.

Since he was, this time, perfectly aware that the basic revealing charms or orders did nothing to the object, he first tried casting Revelio and Ocultus Exhibeo \- to no effect as well. In response, the parchment only informed him that he was not a creative wizard.

Severus wished he could warn the parchment that he was creative enough to be able to turn it to ashes in more than one way, even though doing so would be double counterproductive, but that convinced him that maybe he should attempt to speak to it.

 _I am beginning to catch myself talking to inanimate objects far too often these days –_ he scorned himself, thinking of Albus’ mirror, which he had shouted at a while earlier.

He knew better this time than to state his name.

“I know that you are a map. Can you reveal yourself?” – plain, idiotic, exactly on the item’s enchantments’ level, perhaps even too polite for it.

_“Mr Moony hastens to express his concern and inform Headmaster Snape that asking a parchment questions might be a sign worth investigating._

_Mr Prongs would like to add that the git expecting it to actually answer is almost more alarming than him having become a Headmaster._

_Mr Padfoot agrees with the preceding and wishes the loony asking an unlucky day along with a prompt change of job title._

_Mr Wormtail advises said batty a prompt visit at Madame Pomfrey’s once he’s done resigning.”_

So the map’s ability to locate and identify him worked even when it hadn’t been open, it seemed – therefore his efforts to remain anonymous had been in vain.

“Fuck this.” the words escaped him in a grumble before he could think better of it and the green letters began shifting on the parchment again.

_“Mr Moony would like to record that such foul language is hardly necessary in the current circumstances, or any others, to be honest, and a Headmaster should be well aware of that._

_Mr Prongs believes... ”_

_I don’t give a fuck what Mr. Prongs believes in!_ – Severus thought, gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to let that turn into an aloud grumble, to avoid another ‘discussion’ with the damned parchment.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to stop reading. Then – he put the map into the pocket of his robe with the solid resolution not to check if it will burn with Incendio and an equally serious one to this time get the answers out of Lupin.

Severus arrived back at Spinner’s a little earlier than the previous night. The werewolf was pacing around the library, halting in half a step when he appeared. Lupin looked at him, startled, as if he had not been expecting the return. For a moment Severus wondered if there was perhaps something wrong with the child, but Lupin didn’t look worried, just pensive.

“You’re back—“ Lupin stated awkwardly, shifting in his position and towards the bed, on the edge of which he then sat.

Severus was tired and had something to speak to him about – therefore he decided on falling into the armchair and this time restraining himself from a barb about the absolute ingeniousness of that remark. “Yes.” he said instead, searching his pocket for the item. “I’ll be prompt – I have something of Potter’s that you presumably know how to work and that might be of use for transporting you to Hogwarts—“ he thrust the parchment at Lupin.

The man looked at him with a mix of sheer surprise and complete lack of understanding, so Severus continued, “Mr. Moony, who I presume is yourself, has been particularly concerned about my mental wellbeing, and frankly, so am I – I tried both using charms **and** talking to this thing—“ he let out a single acerbic cackle “--but the enchantments will not let me in.”

Severus was way too tired to be properly mean and vengeful, so he even spared himself (and more so – Lupin) offending Black. The feeble flame of annoyance, which the recollection of the parchment jabbing at him reawakened, had fortunately settled down before it could turn into a fire. However - it seemed that he still managed to somehow say the wrong thing.

Lupin blinked a few times, still not taking the parchment, as if he had something stuck in his eye. Then he leaned forward and, before Severus even handed the map to him, started crying.

He was clearly forcing the tears back and wouldn’t meet Severus’ gaze. His back trembled uncontrollably and his face, which he was desperately trying to hide between the arms, turned pink, with the chin jittering. Lupin tried to reach out to Severus for the parchment, and doing that without looking up proved difficult to the man. He had grabbed the edge of the bed with one hand and had the palm of the other stretched before him – waiting blindly for Severus to give him the item.

For a moment Severus wasn’t entirely sure whether Lupin wasn’t going to fall from the bed, so he kept his wand ready for rescuing the _damned blunderer_ , if he did. Then, he put the map in his hand carefully and it clenched over it automatically. Lupin immediately backed away, clutching the parchment to his chest as if Severus were to extort it from him, and still doing his best (which wasn’t much) to cover up the obvious.

Severus didn’t know what sort of reaction he had been anticipating, but definitely not this – not an uncontrolled outburst of grieving in the form of crying. The few quelled tears of joy on sight of a child one almost thought lost – that he could tolerate, but this? This was far too much and far too out of the blue.

Severus, personally, wasn’t accustomed to crying – his father had taught him better than to dare make a sound louder than a whisper when he was upset. Childhood habits died hard and the only thing he managed to learn later in life, was that sometimes a single outcry or a scream was necessary, because certain people would not rest satisfied until they forced one out of a person. Cries of pain and ones of sadness differed greatly, however, at least in his opinion; the latter would never leave his throat, even if he would have to silence himself with magic for that.

He was even less accustomed to adults crying, having experience in that matter solely with students and, lately – a toddler.

It had been ages since Severus saw a grown man crying. The last time he did, it was in a scenario a lot more morbid (and therefore justifiable) than the current one. That man, unable to restrain himself from jumping to the rescue of his wife, his face – a mask of anguish and panic, betrayed his and his children’s hideaway (though the locating charm would have found them nevertheless). He was already crying when they saw him, but when he realised what he had done, his features contorted even more painfully than they would a moment later, when Rosier had his go at him, and he began wailing, howling almost. Suffices to say, he did not live long after he had been noticed.

Severus reckoned that in the case currently before him, it was either the mention of young Potter or of Black that caused the outburst, though of course, the mass of the other deaths was entangled tightly with those. The fresher ones, like Tonks’, he could imagine to hurt rather devastatingly; not to say the Potter boy himself – the symbol of defeat for all of them, a reminder of how wasteful the other sacrifices have been, and on top of that, for Lupin probably something of a nephew. Severus kind of understood that. He was well acquainted with the notion of mourning, but that didn’t mean his wish to shout at the man to pull himself together had perished.

Lupin was now sitting with his back against the wall, his face hidden between his knees, the map still close to it (Severus hoped it did have a water repelling charm on it at least as efficient as the reveal-obstructing ones). Watching the woeful werewolf wasn’t something Severus was keen to do, and, since for now his chances at getting any information out of him had withered anyways, he darted to his feet and left the room.

In the corridor he checked whether the baby hadn’t been woken up, but Teddy was quiet. His father, on the other hand, wasn’t – Severus heard his wailing loud and clear as he entered the kitchen.

He opened the cupboard and took a wine glass out, closed the little door promptly, and listened to the sounds coming from the library while turning the glass in his hand for a few seconds. Then, he opened the cupboard again and took out a teacup.

He put the kettle on.

Meanwhile, he filled the glass with wine, pouring it the way he would have dragon blood – aptly, carefully and the exact amount necessary, equal each time. He drained the glass and repeated the procedure. By the time the tea stopped brewing, he had drunk three of those.

Lupin, in the adjacent room, was still crying – currently in more timid, muffled sobs.

Severus scourgified the glass and put it back into its place, then took the teacup and carried it over to the library.

Lupin started at his return. Apparently the werewolf was already feeling at home enough to be shocked that Severus could enter his own library whenever he pleased.

Neither of them said a word. Severus put the cup on Lupin’s nightstand with a plink and measured the man, huddling on the bed, with his gaze. Lupin was looking back at him sheepishly, with his eyebrows raised and utterly embarrassed – _not that he shouldn’t be, damned weak idiot of a man... werewolf_ – his face red, the toffee-coloured wolf-eyes very humanly bloodshot. He was still shaking with sobs slightly, his lips moving rather uncontrollably.

Severus did not make staring at him much of a habit, so he only now noticed that his cheeks, covered with dowdy stubble, were more hollow now than when he first woke up from the comma. He made a mental note to ensure that the man was eating enough. Self-inflicted starvation, whether intentional or not, seemed like an absolutely senseless idea to Severus, so it fit Lupin perfectly. However, Severus wasn’t going to let the man die just because he was an idiot.

The child behind the wall was still sound asleep, unbothered by the commotion.

Lupin’s breathing was irregular and heavy, but the main wave of wailing seemed to have passed. _Thanks Merlin._ In terms of the map – the situation wasn’t very promising, Lupin did not give the impression of someone able to speak collectedly, at least not as of yet. Severus, having absorbed the scene, turned on his heel to leave.

“Severus--” began the werewolf in a barely audible whisper.

“Yes?” Severus ‘encouraged’ him to continue. He tried not to sound bothered, but he was aware that he did regardless. _I swear on Salazar’s name, if he asks me to remain here and listen to whatever he has to present as an excuse for his breakdown..._

“Thank you.“ he said plainly, looking from Severus to the cup.

“Don’t mention it, Lupin.” He very much meant that.

Lupin’s lips moved like he planned to add something, and, though Severus’ hope that it would be about the topic that concerned him was slim, he unenthusiastically waited for him to get it out. But Lupin only scooted over closer to the door, still glancing at him _apologetically?_ and began sipping from his cup. Perhaps to wet his clay before he spoke, but that didn’t matter, since in that moment Teddy started crying and Severus, madly grateful for the excuse to leave, swept away from the room.

The “Congratulations, Lupin, you woke the kid.” did not escape his mouth, though it certainly formed on the tip of his tongue, ready to jump out.

Severus was never allowed to mourn or otherwise react to the bereavement he felt. His definition of appropriate reactions to a loved one dying differed not only from Lupin’s, but also from Albus’ and certainly from the Eaters’. That invoked a sort of respectful jealousy in him, at the fact that Lupin was capable of lamenting freely, so he did enable him to do that without interrupting. _Don’t hex a man when he’s down_ – that definitely wasn’t something he had found practical himself, the opposite was much more useful, but it was... _how do the ‘good ones’ call it? The right thing to do?_

Teddy was more easily pacified than his father – he also definitely wasn’t weeping after Tonks or anyone else, simply woke up hungry. Severus held him up and strode over to the kitchen. Teddy stopped crying when they neared the fridge. Severus gave the child his bottle with the milk potion and rocked him very slightly while he ate.

Once he emptied the bottle, Severus wiped his face with a handkerchief – somehow the little boy always managed to spill something over himself, even though with the proper equipment (Narcissa’s courtesy) it was barely possible. Therefore, Severus was now carrying two handkerchiefs most of the time – the child’s green one – and his own (the obvious colour, or lack of it). It had happened already that he mixed them up and took Teddy’s out in a setting in which nothing that belongs to children should ever find itself – over the werewolf’s victim in the Forest – to cover his nose. He then threw the cloth out and bought a new one. _Oh, the lap of luxury - being able to afford anything whenever you need it!_ – the part of him that would never get used to his current wealth always noted such things with irony. This time, however, he was more cautious so that no such thing would happen again. Now the child’s one was in his chest pocket and Teddy’s little hands reached for it when he saw Severus unbuttoning it.

When they were done with the whole ordeal, Severus carried Edward to the bedroom again and laid him down in the cradle. The kid smiled at him softly when he tucked him in. “Goodnight Teddy” Severus whispered.

He then went to the library again, with the main intention of taking the teacup back to the kitchen. Lupin, apparently now permanently stunned, glanced at him in wide-eyed surprise when he stood on the threshold.

His face was still wet with the trails of tears on it and reddened with abashment. “I’m sorry that you had to witness this--“ Remus pointed at himself, wiping his cheek with his sleeve.

“So am I.” Severus said, reaching for the now empty teacup. There was no reason to spare the man anymore, he had judged. Lupin had almost got a hold on himself, so he could stop expecting to be coddled like a child. “The map?” Severus tried inquiring, before leaving again.

“Oh... well... yes—“ Lupin was taken aback, as if he had forgotten about the parchment he was still holding. He now glanced at it sorrowfully. His voice was still hoarse and a little unsteady. “The Marauder's Map. It’s a map of Hogwarts, as you’ve seen. It used to belong to me and—“ he hesitated, “—the boys, as you also probably know. To use it you need to wave your wand over it like that—“ he motioned with his empty hand, reminding Severus of his pitiful wandlessness, “—and say ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’, then when you’re done using it – ‘Mischief managed.’ will wipe the parchment clear again.”

Severus snorted with a hint of disdain. Trust the four of those Gryffindor dimwits to have come up with the most embarrassing of phrases for their semi-criminal activities.

“Yeah, I know. We were teens, and not particularly original ones either—“ Remus continued with a shadow of a smile, “—though the passwords are still not bad, I think. Not the worst thing we did, definitely.” _Is that some kind of a half-arsed apology, Lupin?_ Severus wondered. But Lupin continued, undaunted by the doubtlessly annoyed expression on his face. “And the map’s a damn good one too, if I may say so myself, as one of the makers—“ his voice still alternated between calm and weepy. “I don’t know how much of it you’ve noticed when you had the chance, but shows the whole Hogwarts castle, plus some passageways out of it—“

 _I’ve been told all I needed to hear already. Finish up, will you, Lupin?_ – Severus didn’t say. Something stuck him to the doorframe, so that he could not make one of his usual swift exits halfway through the discussant’s sentence. _Probably the wine._

“—and all the people in the castle in their current positions. Well, some animals too, Mrs. Norris for example. So everyone except for currently transformed Animagi, which is why it did not show...—“ he broke off. “Watching McGonagall was always a lot of fun —“ Lupin half-closed his eyes on the memory, “—for Lily, when James showed her, because the rest of—“

“Enough, Lupin. Give it back now.” Severus interjected harshly, reaching for the map.

“Wait—“ the werewolf clutched the parchment tighter again, like a dog shielding its toy, “—I first wanted to ask you how you got it this time.”

“Took it from the boy’s lifeless body. Potter kept it in his pocket.” Severus answered emotionlessly, though with certain pleasure at the man’s spooked expression. “It was a tad bloodied up, but nothing that couldn’t be spelled away.” _Since you like exchanging unnecessary details so much, Lupin._

“Oh God,—“the man blenched. He then glanced back at Severus, as if sorry again. “I-I don’t mean to offend you or something. I get that it’s very useful, so it’s probably for the best that you took it. It’s just all so horrible that--”

“Get used to it.” Severus cut in again and left with the cup, having snatched the parchment from Lupin finally.

He was pretty sure that Lupin, when left alone again, broke once more and kept crying well into the night, but he cast a silencing spell on the wall between the rooms, so that Teddy and he slept soundly without being disturbed by his laments.

\---

Two days before the move, the moment he arrived at Hogwarts Severus summoned Frankie. He needed to ‘have a talk’ with her. However, he used different wording for that, since Frankie seemed to associate ‘having a talk’ with having to hit herself, which, Severus suspected, was most likely due to the grace of Lucius Malfoy.

The elves of Hogwarts were now all enslaved with their loyalty to the Dark Lord as the Master and only then – the Headmaster. Therefore, Severus was condemned to relying solely on Frankie, whose loyalty was only to him. Cissa truly had no idea how big of a favour she made him with this gift.

Whatever was going on against the elves in the kitchens must have been as horrible as he had predicted, because they regarded him as some kind of a benevolent man, which, rest assured, Severus was positive he was not. However, in comparison to some of the other staff – he must have been giving that impression. He only kicked the elves when he had to, referred to them by their names when alone, and did not condone starving and torturing them – “Do you wish to cook for yourself, Walden? Or for the students? No? Wonderful then, leave the thing be while it’s still breathing.”

Even Frankie, who had tasted almost equally great treatment at the Manor, now looked shaken with fear after those few weeks in which she was condemned to living with the rest of the elves. She was definitely overexcited to see Severus, probably because of what he had told her before – that she would now live in the Chambers, only occasionally leaving them on errands.

“Master –“ she began squeakily, the second she apparated to the office “- Frankie is being so happy to see you, sir.”

_Don’t be. Of all the ones involved, you have the smallest chances of surviving for long._

“Frankie prepared everything, sir – the room in the back, cradle, cupboards, lab, wardrobe – though the clothes are not there yet, as sir said to do, the bed, food, the toys for th–“ _Blabber, blabber, blabber._ Cissa definitely had over calculated his patience with this one.

“I know what I have asked for, Frankie –“ he interrupted sharply.

Now the elf’s elation to see him transformed seamlessly into fear and she began darting looks at his boots. Severus had never given her a reason to do so, even though that would doubtlessly work wonders on her ability to stay silent. He wondered who of the Eaters dared kick ‘his property’ in the last few weeks – well, that was a matter to have a talk over, definitely. He would have ordered the elf to wear a cloth different than the others did, so that she would be more recognisable as his, but that would also have the adverse effect of her attracting more attention on her errands, which was very ill-advisable, especially from now on.

“Master... Frankie is wanting to say that all is prepared, but for the library—“ she checked herself, shifting uneasily - waiting for the scolding.

She had an irritating habit of first telling the good, then the bad news - also probably out of fear, but that knowledge in no way lessened the aggravating effect this had on her current master.

“Why is that so?” Severus asked, struggling not to sound furious.

“Because sir—Sir Carrow won’t let Frankie take the books.” the elf explained regretfully.

_And sir Carrow thinks he has a say over what I agreed on with the Ministry...? Well, with Lucius, but that’s the same thing, for the time being._

“Won’t he?” she nodded in unnecessary confirmation. Severus exhaled irritably. “Well then... They have not been burnt or otherwise disposed of, I hope?”

“No, no, sir. Just sir Carrow is not letting Frankie into the library at all, he be shooing her away, saying Madame Pince won’t be liking her there and trying to kick Frankie. Frankie isn’t knowing why.”

 _Then I assume that is because he’s afraid of Irma, which is absolutely hilarious. But if it turns out to be anyone of the mob defying what I had said... Salazar help them._ Severus relaxed slightly, which Frankie mirrored, clearly relieved to have avoided some kind of punishment he hadn’t had in store for her.

“Try showing yourself to Madame Pince first and tell her I sent you.” he advised the elf, who sometimes acted incredibly naively, so she could have not thought of that. She was knowledgeable in things he certainly weren’t (like how to hold a baby that is eating, so that it would get a colic, or how at what temperature should the milk-potion be served), but apart from that – certainly needed some training for his purposes.

A beam of understanding descended onto her face. “Frankie will be doing so, master.”

“While you’re at it, pass along to her that I’ll see her on Monday at 11.” Severus added.

“Sure, master will be seeing lady Pince on Monday—“ the elf repeated to remember. “Frankie is telling that when she sees lady.”

“Now then, I called you here mainly to give you orders—“ he began slowly, weighing the decision in his head again.

“Yes, sir?” Frankie managed to cut in.

“From Saturday you will be caring for three people Frankie, but you are never, under absolutely no circumstances to tell anyone that it is not just me and Teddy alone. Do you understand that?”

He was putting everything in the hands of a caring, though not an especially bright creature. _Merlin am I a fool_ – he thought immediately after having said the words. _Entrusting an elf with this..._

Severus had already realised (around the time he did not turn Lupin in at once when the Decree had been passed) that he lost his better judgment around the time he regained a purpose and therefore a shred of a will to life. Apparently - it was only possible for him to have one of those at the time.

Frankie’s over-eager nodding did little to placate his concerns, but truth was – it was better if she knew. He needed her help for the transport of Lupin into the castle and for keeping the cover with, at least partly fake, taking-care-of Teddy. Also – an uninformed elf could sell him down the river anyways - unwittingly, and since said river ended in a double or triple demise, it was better to avoid that element of haphazard in favour of the hopefully less possible risk - of the elf betraying under torture.

“Of course, sir. Frankie is understanding that well. Frankie is never telling anyone. Frankie saw nothing, heard nothing—“ she did the appropriate gestures with her hands, “—is saying nothing. It’s just being Sir – Master, and Teddy – the Little One, no one else.”

“Good. I will teach you something that is not within house elf magic later, when I find the time, because it may happen that someone will be asking you questions and that it will not be pleasant--” Severus told her, exerting his ability to speak in euphemisms about torture. “That, too, will be a secret. In two days time, you will help me with escorting someone and Teddy into the castle. Absolutely nobody is to see you on your way and you are to apparate only within the castle grounds, is that clear?” Frankie nodded. “I am informing you in advance because you will need to prepare for that. The location I will show you on a map. I would like you to test that you can get there and that the whole passage is not at risk of collapsing, and report to me about that. That, also, will be the official version of what you were doing, if anybody ever inquired – checking which underground corridors have survived the Battle.” The elf seemed to be comprehending everything well so far, though only practice would tell for sure. “I require that you obey me, then the other man that will live here, unless our orders contradict. That other man is non-existent to the outside world and you are to never speak of him to anyone but me, as I have mentioned. I will also want you to refuse to answer if anyone ever asks you about my orders or to lie, believably—“ this part Frankie clearly did not understand, judging by the look on her face. Severus assumed that house elves were rarely encouraged to engage in deception. “For example – whenever I had been working, you are to say you were taking care of Teddy in that time, even if you were not. Have I been conspicuous enough?”

Circe, he probably said more to Frankie now than to all the other elves he had ever met in his life, put together.

_Damned, cursed, fucking having to worry about things._

The elf looked at him absently for a moment, then nodded again. “Yes, master, Frankie is understanding everything very well. All is secret, so Frankie must not be telling anyone and only trusting master. So, where Frankie is to be on Saturday, so she can prepare?”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus felt very much left in the dark, double-blindfolded and spun around, with the amount of his plans that Snape revealed to him. He clung to the shreds of information he was given on occasion – “I have an elf.”, “The Map will be of use.” - and waited (not really that patiently) for Severus to finally show mercy and tell him all about it. That moment came only on Friday evening.

“We’re moving tomorrow, right? So could you finally tell me **how** , Severus?” Remus caught him in the kitchen, sitting by the table.

Before Snape lay the dinner brought from Hogwarts, and by the looks of it - he had not eaten for the whole day before that. By the side of the plate stood a wineglass, already half-emptied. “I was planning to tell you tonight, yes.” he answered, lazily raising his head from over the plate and to him.

“Then do so now.” Remus insisted. “Please.”

“I am eating, Lupin.” Severus stated, eyeing him discouragingly. Without releasing the fork from his grip, he then cast a silencing spell around them, as he would often do lately. Though Remus was convinced it was caused by his breakdown over the Marauder's Map a few days ago, he sort of appreciated this farseeing - it probably was saving Teddy a whole lot of waking up, considering the limited space of the house.

“Which has never stopped you from talking all the while before—“ Remus replied, as he thought at first – reasonably. Although later, he agreed with Severus’ next remark (though Snape himself definitely wasn’t any better in that area, in Remus’ opinion).

“You are as much of a kid as your son is.” Severus said harshly. He had now stopped eating, put away the fork and the knife and pierced Remus with his eyes. Remus quelled the childish “So what?!” he wanted to say and endured his glower silently.

After a moment Severus sighed in surrender. “Well, since you want me to eat it cold –“ he began. “--Tomorrow morning first I’ll apparate to Hogwarts with the child. There Frankie - the elf, will take care of him, while I come back here to side-along you to the Hogsmeade tunnels. I will leave you there, then switch places with Frankie by Teddy, and she will, so to say, retrieve you from the passageways and into the chambers—“ he finished on another loud exhale. “Will you leave me alone now, Lupin?”

“Will I have the Map?” Remus inquired.

“Why would you need it?” Snape asked in response, raising his brow. “I only wanted it for Frankie to memorize the system of tunnels.”

“Well, what if I run into someone—“

“Yes, I have thought of that, but the chances are slim.” Severus paused to drink. “And the option where I leave the map open is risky – you have your death sentence written there in the form of your name. I will be monitoring the map and intervene if need be.”

_Yes, I bet you like the option where you watch it all from above and afar much more, because then all the control lies with you._

“You said I could get a wand.” Remus protested out loud. _Gods, this does sound like I am his child. Or his prisoner._ “Then I’ll be able to use the map and defend myself, if I need to.”

“I said you could – at Hogwarts.” Severus reminded, returning to cutting his food. The strict father role suit him well, apparently. If only this ‘child’ wasn’t a grown adult himself...

“What’s the difference if I do now?” Remus was determined not to be sent into the tunnels defenceless. So much had changed, that he was not convinced if they were safe anymore.

Severus raised his gaze again and considered Remus for a while with his eyes narrowed. “Well I assume there is none.” he said finally. “Only for now I will just choose for you at random and you will be limited to using the spells that do not leave a characteristic trace.”

“Fine by me.” Lupin almost smiled, sincerely shocked that Severus agreed to it so easily.

His disbelief persisted until the next morning, when Severus returned from Hogwarts, having left Teddy there. He indeed brought the Map and a wand, pliable, longer than the one Remus used to have. It was made of a conifer, based on the smell.

“You probably know no better than I do, but isn’t it larch?” he asked Severus upon examining it. The man was rather talented at Herbology, so it was likely that he at least had a strong hypothesis.

“I assume it is.” Severus confirmed, looking at him almost with a newfound respect.

“Is it a dig then?” _The wood that instils courage, what a **coincidence.**_

“You’ll find it unbelievable, Lupin, but I have not memorised Ollivander’s wood descriptions by heart.” Severus sneered. “Now if you are done with looking for malice where there’s none, shall we go?”

“Sure—“ Remus fought not to sound sceptical.

The apparating, despite Remus now having a wand, still involved side-alonging. That was because Severus insisted that apparition was a form of magic too obvious to remain unnoticed, even this close to an all magical-village. Remus agreed with that notion. Besides, nobody could be more visibly discontented by him having to touch them than Severus was, so it was obvious that this wasn’t some kind of a scheme to humiliate him. The man winced a little as he told Remus to grasp his arm – and, though the disgust wasn’t mutual, Lupin hated that just as much. He felt awfully dependent and useless, due to being unable to do this on his own.

The moment they arrived in the tunnel, Remus let go of Snape’s arm and they both took relieved breaths. Severus then left him to ward the Spinner’s House after them, re-appeared, simply to let Remus know that in a moment Frankie would be there and disappeared again, probably for some point in Hogsmeade located above the ground.

Then, Remus was left in the passageway underneath Honeydukes, which was amongst the two that evaded collapsing during the Battle, as he was to later find out from the babbling house elf. Hogsmeade, judging by the sounds of children’s laughter from above, was not the shadow of a village it had been just before the last outbreak of war. Remus wondered sadly about ‘the outside world’ which he was now so excluded from, while he waited for Frankie. He had the Marauder's Map open before him and traced the moves of all the people that were to become, unawares, his neighbours. He was reassured to find that neither the Prophet nor Severus had been lying – the dots symbolising the appropriate staff were in the place – currently most of them gathered around the location of the Hufflepuff Common Room. He saw Snape’s and Teddy’s dots travelling through what had been mapped rather laxly – the Headmaster’s Tower. It felt odd to read his son’s new surname on the Map.

In that moment the elf appeared in front of him, violet-eyed, smiling and dressed in the typical cloth with a Hogwarts emblem. “Is you the Someone?” she asked.

“Yes, I am. Lycium barbarum.” he confirmed with a password.

“Yes, yes, L-what have you. Wolfsberry. Master is being too smart for his own good.” the elf complained. “I is Frankie—“ she introduced herself. “Frankie is knowing that there is a secret, so is Frankie to call you Someone, sir?”

“No, you can call me—“ Remus hesitated, the name wasn’t probably the best option if Severus had decided not to tell her. He now realised he knew nothing about the elf and her possible loyalties.“—Moony, or just sir.” It would be a sting in the heart each time, maybe, but not necessarily the worst one there could be. Besides, there was only a limited amount of tears one could cry about his permanently stolen or lost friendships, Remus knew that from experience.

“Good, sir Moony—“ Frankie beamed “—So let us be going, to the master and the Little One.”

They apparated into the Headmaster’s office, but Lupin barely had the time to assess how it had changed, because the elf tugged him by the sleeve of his robe and, through a door that suddenly appeared once the bookcase moved away, to the rest of the chambers.

Severus had Teddy in his arms (he still was holding him in a ‘could use a toddler-handling manual’ sort of way, but Teddy didn’t seem to mind), when Remus and Frankie went inside what seemed to be the kitchen.

It was a lot brighter than the Spinner’s End one, with a high ceiling, further accentuated by a tall window. The black curtains – _wonder whose addition could that be_ – were currently drawn and the summer sun poured inside. There was a wizard ‘fridge’, this time - a sort of closet with glass panels and the freezing enchantments engraved on its door in silver. The walls were left untouched – bare stone, undecorated by anything but a silver clock and the candle holders. The floor was covered with marble tiles. The cabinets, on one of which Severus just put down Teddy’s bottle, had marble counters and were, judging by the colour, made of walnut or mahogany, with silver handles to their drawers.

“Sir, why is you feeding the Little One, when Frankie was to do it?” the elf admonished Severus immediately when she noticed.

Remus couldn’t stop a slight smile, perhaps even a smirk, from showing. The elf truly was a gift of fate; he was willing to take the risk of another person (because to him Frankie certainly was one) knowing about him, if he was going to have her bossy company.

Teddy, hearing her, looked at the two newcomers happily, from the perspective of Severus’ height. Remus forced himself to grin wider.

Severus’ face, meanwhile, contorted with an exaggerated scowl. “This, Lupin, is the elf that will doubtlessly teach you that you cannot take care of your own child properly—“ he gestured for Frankie to come to him. “Well, you can now fix my mistakes, can’t you?” he leaned down to hand her the child.

Teddy looked positively enchanted by the elf and he kept trying to hold her nose, which she let him do, skilfully bringing him closer to her and meanwhile grabbing the bottle Severus gave her from the counter.

“Now Frankie, if you will, to the office.” Severus ordered. From the looks of it, he wanted to talk to Remus in private. “So, Lupin—“ he turned to him, “—I assume you’ll be wandering around to take everything in. For now – do you have any questions?”

Severus was in a good mood today, there was no doubt about it. Compared to his acerbic sulking (more of it than the usual at least) for the last week or so – it was a great improvement. Remus, however, knew better than to take it for granted.

Nevertheless, using this sudden amicableness, he wanted to find out some more about _well, things, in general._ Severus, despite just having encouraged him to talk, was now preparing himself coffee, facing the counters rather than Lupin. He put a silver percolator out from the shelf by the sink and, having ransacked the drawers of the cabinets around him to find a sack filled with coffee, began filling the utensil with its contents.

“I didn’t know Frankie can hear my name—“ Remus began speaking to his back, noting with a tad of relief that he could now tell her not to refer to him as ‘Moony’.

“Do you believe it would change anything if she did not, considering that she will be aware of all the other things?” Severus asked, setting the stove on. Then, he placed the percolator on the ring burning with magical fire.

“True.” Remus agreed and, deciding not to stand awkwardly a few feet behind the man’s back, sat down at the small table in front of the kitchenette. Then, he cut to the chase “--Are there any new rules you have set that I should know about?”

“The Spinner’s End ones remain.” Severus said, opening a cupboard and then sending him a glance over his arm.

 _Was that a question if I want coffee? Can’t he speak?_ Remus wondered. He nodded, however – as a way to check this theory.

“If necessary, I’ll be updating them as I go, so to say--” Severus continued, still rummaging through the cupboards, apparently not familiar with their contents yet. He was shutting their doors with slams, but kept speaking loudly enough that Remus heard him all the same. “If anything comes to my mind, Frankie will communicate it to you. For now, all you need to know is that the Chambers are a safe space for you to be in and to use magic—" he finally found the cabinet housing the cups and, indeed, took out two of them. “Besides, since I have the dubious pleasure of sharing them with you, I will require that you keep order in them. Though that’s needless to say.“ Severus turned away from observing the coffee brewing for a moment and looked at Remus. “--Food will appear, the rest Frankie will take care of. Your, so to call them, duties, therefore involve taking care of Teddy in turns with Frankie and not getting in the way of any Death Eaters, myself included.”

“All magic? Have you checked the wards that cover it up here?” Remus asked him, once Snape was finished with his comprehensive monologue. Severus had in no way been over-confident so far, but he wanted to make sure anyways.

“Yes. You can well fill the place with Patronuses, if you so wish. Albus had maintained the masking enchantments in great condition, thanks Merlin.” Severus said turning to him, with what Remus was pretty sure was a shadow of sadness in the curve of his mouth. It must have been at his victim’s name, then – he figured, but he didn’t dare further probe on the subject.

“Okay then.” he stated, almost happily. It was small consolation in everything, but having magic at his disposal, even though he didn’t even have a proper wand yet, immediately made Remus feel better. “Now about Frankie – can we trust her in keeping the secret? What if something happens to her?”

“I am working on it.” Severus assured him, now again speaking towards the now percolating coffee. “She should be able to lie to a Legilimens if you are to remain here for a few months.”

“Oh-“ Remus almost gasped. “You are teaching her—“

“Not yet, but I will be.” Severus glanced at him momentarily, the typical firmness in his voice.

Now Remus was impressed. Severus was highly paranoid, definitely. No wizard of the kind that could be after Remus, would try to drag the information out of an elf this way if they could help it, because that would mean admitting that the creatures do have humanlike minds. Torture could be used, perhaps, though to Remus it seemed unlikely as well. However, it was Severus who was the one familiar ( _damn cordial even_ ) with the dangers here, so he trusted his judgement.

“I can help with that, you know? I might not know as much as you do, but I am rather well versed in too, if I may say so myself.” Remus offered, hoping he sounded bolder than he felt. Severus tampering with the elf’s mind was almost as unsettling as the one considering Teddy, since she was to be his nanny, after all.

“I will not be complaining if you do. I am already way overburdened with duties.” Severus admitted.

 _Oh well, that was almost too easy._ Remus felt more assured instantly – things really were going unbelievably smoothly since they had travelled to Hogwarts.

“Why didn’t you tell me more about Frankie before? Not her loyalty, the Occlumency thing, not even what I can tell her.” Remus inquired, while the man returned to making the beverage - he now took the percolator off of the stove and put down the flames with a wandless spell.

“I told you what was necessary for you to be aware of—“ Severus said, pouring the dark liquid into the two black cups. “There is an elf, so assumedly I am its master. Now I add - it is secure for it to know of your existence and relation to Teddy, if that was unclear to you before.”

“Could I perhaps...” Remus began tentatively, “--ask you to work on telling me more than the bare minimum that I need to know, Severus? Without me constantly having to ask about each little thing? Because that would help lots in me, well, not feeling like a captive.” He was doing his best not to sound irritated by that fact, but complaisant, even. And yet – one look at Severus’ face sufficed to tell that something went not as Remus had planned it.

The man pursed his lips as he turned over to Lupin, carrying the two cups. Glaring at him, he put the one for Lupin before him, in the same resentfully reluctant gesture Remus remembered him bringing him the goblets with potions at Hogwarts. _And the case is lost –_ he thought with defeat.

“I am not your gentlewoman, princess Lupin.” Severus informed curtly as he sat down at the other side of the table, the furthest he could from Remus. “If you need a talkative companion – Frankie will provide you with her never-ending tattle and I assure you, her stories are absolutely f a s c i n a t i n g—“ he drawled the last word out so much, that Remus assumed he should have felt bored listening just to it, let alone said stories.

Not entirely discouraged, however, because he had gotten accustomed to his glowers in the last two weeks, Remus asked, hoping to change the subject, but while letting it revolve around the house elf still, “Where’d you get Frankie from in the first place? Is she a Prince house elf?”

“Ask her. I would not deprive Frankie of the privilege to tell you that herself.” Severus answered curtly.

 _Well, I will. Though I don’t get why you can’t tell me more about it now._ Remus felt the irritation slowly raising in him and searched for a way to avoid a flare up. His coffee, even though he had added the cream that had been already on the table, was in his opinion too hot to drink yet. With that excuse he stood up from the table, which Severus didn’t seem offended by, and went for a stroll through the rooms.

The chambers very much weren’t Albus’, though they definitely had been before for years and the ghost of him sort of lingered in them. They weren’t Severus’ either, if the Spartan decor of his own house was anything to go by – a mix of both, perhaps.

The kitchen was a spacious and rather empty room, apart from the area with the kitchenette itself. It had a coat rack by the door and a chest of drawers by one of the walls opposite to the window, above which hung a painting in a silver frame. The picture showed a forest clearing with a Thestral running through it. Remus wondered if the horse’s depiction would be visible to someone who had not seen death – like Teddy, for example. On the right, there was also a small trunk, which, based on the decor on its top – an egg-yolk coloured duck, belonged to Teddy. Directly in front of it there was a grey carpet with silver strands ( _for the child not to play on the marble floor?-_ he marvelled at Severus’ being considerate). Remus peeked inside the trunk to see an impressive assortment of toys, solely magical ones, basing on the sounds they began making when he let light in. He closed it back again and, now standing between two doors, first chose the one on his right.

It led to a room that looked cramped, mainly because of the darkness that reigned in it – so Remus pulled out his somewhat disobeying stolen wand and, after a Lumos, looked around the library. Like the previous room – it had a high ceiling, with arches he could barely see in the faint beam now. The tall dark bookcases were bigger than Severus’ ones at Spinner’s, though currently at least half of them was empty, with a ladder leaning against them. Two armchairs stood in front of them, with dark leather padding and a table between them. Underneath them another carpet – or, in this case, what looked like an animal’s skin, lay on the stone floor.

The room on the left to this one was closed, but by the fact that there was absolutely no gap between the door and the floor (the way he had noticed it to be at Spinner’s), Remus deduced that it was the laboratory. Next, on the left side of the corner, there was a bedroom.

Remus entered it and took in the huge window, general abundance of space and lack of decorations apart from the curtains and the green and black canopy with silver bands, which hung over the four poster bed (very House-dormitory-like, though perhaps even taller than that). There were nightstands, a chest, a wardrobe and a desk, all made of the same dark wood that the counters were and looking heavy and expensive, but at the same time – quite ascetic. He, therefore, assumed it to be Severus’ bedroom. Then he noticed two things that filled him with disturbance, first – the presence of the cradle, next – that there was only one other door, which led to the bathroom.

 _Severus has said I’ll be able to sleep close to the child in Hogwarts, so that would mean I sleep here. But then where does he? I mean... surely he would not..._ – the thought itself was completely ridiculous. Remus wanted to believe that it would be so under any circumstances, of course, but even his own argumentation to himself swayed more towards the ‘ _he is disgusted by what I am’_ than it did to ‘ _he is a decent human being, so he would never do such a thing’._ He tried to calm down by saying to himself that there surely was another room, simply one he had omitted, with an entrance in the kitchen, or perhaps even from the office, but did not quite succeed in that.

Remus’ brain knackered itself out so much on that, that by the time he was storming into the kitchen, he was – well, doing exactly that, in place of his usual, serene pace of walking and the carefulness with which he treated objects around him, such as doors.

Severus was still sitting by the table, the cup in his hand. He glanced at Remus indolently and asked, with a hint of amusement at his obvious unnerved confusion, “Seen the bedroom, have you?”

_I sure damn have, you... ‘I will tell you nothing Lupin, so that I can laugh at you panicking, even though you do have a whole lot of things to be panicked about.’_

“Yes I have, Severus. Care to explain?” Remus demanded, surprised at the firmness in his own voice. He stopped a few steps to the table, so that he could face Snape, but stand closer than he had previously sat, and damn well hoped he looked angry and intimidating.

“As a matter of fact, I do—“ Severus began, seemingly unmoved by that display. “—First things first, there is another room at the end on the right, with a hidden door, obviously. Opens on password. For now it is ‘Metamorphosis’, but since it will be your transformation room, not mine, you will be able to choose. It does have a bed. However, you have insisted on having Teddy wake you up, and I have provided.” He paused and sipped from what Remus was convinced had to be an already empty cup, while watching him with an unreadable expression. Remus’ fingers drummed against the back of the nearest chair in nettled anticipation. Then, Severus continued, “—The bed is enchanted, so that the distance between its users depends on their will. Mutual will, though whichever of them requests the bigger distance, that’s the one it will accommodate to. For various reasons, I need the Lonely-Father-Headmaster to remain as such at all times, so Edward will certainly sleep where I do, which is the reason I have opted for that invention.”

This explanation did little to soothe Remus’ irritation. He didn’t even register the mention of him transforming. With a flush to his face that he had no way of controlling, he asked, defiantly, “--And you have waited for today to tell me because?”

“Because there was no urgent need to tell you this earlier.” Severus replied nonchalantly, having left his seat and walked up to the counter.

Remus almost wanted to anger him. “It’s not just this case, Severus. It’s a whole lot of things so far, that you ‘don’t need to tell me about’ in advance. You are just playing with me, aren’t you?” he stated accusingly.

Severus wasn’t paying too much attention to him – now filling his cup with was left in the percolator. He then turned around to come back to the table. “In what manner, Lupin?” he asked, with a smirk that contradicted his falsely surprised tone.

Remus took a deep breath and began, “--In many. You answer my questions evasively whenever you wish, or not at all if you’re mad at something. You haven’t even talked to me about how long all of this you believe will last or what are you planning to do about it. You have absolutely no regard for how I feel with this whole situation. You keep me in the dark about things on purpose, so that I’m stressed and literally have to beg you for clarification. Lately you’ve stopped bringing in the Prophet, so I’ve got no outlook on what’s going on – again without notice or a word. You’ve got power over me, because I’m in hiding and I owe you for saving me. You know that you do and you’re abusing it.”

 _There, I’ve said it._ His chest felt lighter once he had stated out loud exactly what had been gathering in him in the form of anxious thoughts during the course of the last two weeks. He knew he sounded less aggressive than he felt, he usually did, and for a moment he thought that he had somehow evaded enraging Snape with this little speech.

Severus was sipping the rest of the coffee calmly for the whole duration of Remus’ tirade. When he spoke, his voice had this dangerous note of silk woven into it, the threatening one. “Am I, Lupin?” he paused as if the question wasn’t rhetorical, but Remus simply stared at him, awaiting an outburst. “I will gladly provide you with last week’s Prophets. They were absolutely fascinating—“ Severus smiled crookedly, his lifeless onyx eyes piercing Remus with rancour. “Besides, speaking of the bed – if you do chose that option, in order to be close to your son – worry not. Bestiality, see, is not amongst my vices.”

Remus began shaking. He wasn’t entirely sure whether with rage, offence, self-hate or something entirely else, but his hands and shoulders trembled uncontrollably. He managed to say “That was a cheap shot, Severus.” in what he hoped to have been a steady voice, then strode out of the room, having forgotten all about the coffee and his earlier belief in today’s Snape.

He went to the library to deal with his emotions solitarily, counting on the fact that Severus would in a moment leave the apartment for his duties anyways.


	4. The Idiot

Severus indeed left soon, and after a while Frankie walked in, carrying Teddy. Remus didn’t, therefore, have too much time to muse over being a beast, wanting to hit Snape in the face, or even – what he’d wish to read from the collection of books on the shelves.

The elf put the, now sleeping, Little One into his cradle and, leaving the door to the bedroom open, started looking around for Remus. She found him soon (“Why you is hiding here in the darkest room, sir, when the sun is being out?”) and brought him his coffee, because “It is getting cool already, sir Moony.”. Then she urged him to eat breakfast, fussing about him being too thin as if she was his grandmother.

She later disappeared for a while, leaving him in the library (where he had eaten) and next returned with Teddy, asking if he’d want to play with the Little One, because she was going to do so. He agreed eagerly and until dinner (for which Frankie almost force-fed him three chicken drumsticks, carping all along - “You is being skin and bones, sir.”) they were sitting on a construction of blankets and the carpet, Teddy either playing with his stuffed lion or sleeping in Remus’ arms.

He, therefore, had the chance to ask the elf all he had wanted to know.

When Teddy was sound asleep, tired out by playing, Remus inquired quietly, so as not to wake him, “Frankie, what household did you come from if I may ask? Is it Prince?”

“No, sir Remus, not Prince. Frankie was being in the Malfoy family before. Earlier she was staying in the Black family. Frankie was travelling a lot, sir is seeing—“ the elf told him.

 _The Malfoys again? Severus is this close with them? And besides – how is she so self-assured?_ From what Harry had told him about Dobby – the Manor wasn’t the best place for a house elf and yet this one seemed to be doing fine.

“But don’t elves have allegiance to a home, rather than a person?” Remus kept probing.

“Yes we do, sir.“ the elf nodded so energetically that her nose almost touched the blanket they were sitting on. She then fell into a torrent of words that swept around Remus, “But at first it was Frankie being in the Black family’s house. Then Frankie was moving with young Mistress Narcissa, to a new home, because Frankie was too young to have home allegiance and young lady was changing the home, marrying she was. And so Frankie went with young Mistress and to the Manor and she helped raise young master Draco, and now there was not much to do for Frankie in what Frankie is being best at, at that home. But then came the Little One--” at this point she gestured to Teddy. “Now Frankie is being told she is loyal to sir Snape’s home, though Frankie has never seen it. Frankie was told by sir Snape that she can’t now, because she would leave too many traces, not knowing masking magic and all, and that was why sir, sir Remus, was being transported from the tunnels too – closer, less to be hiding. And Frankie could be being in the tunnels, according to Master.”

 _Oh hell, I haven’t even thought of that._ Remus just realised, that he had just sort of accepted the plan without giving it too much thought. Back then he cared more about the wand thing anyways. It definitely did not cross his mind that if there was an elf, then she could have just taken him straight from the house and on her own, or why she shouldn’t do exactly that. However, for his defence, he had the fact that he wasn’t too knowledgeable in elves’ abilities like masking magic (which apparently – they did not possess) and that he had assumed the elf was from Hogwarts’, so she could be limited to the grounds either way. Well, now that was clear, at least – _blessed be her ‘not-fascinating tattle’._

Frankie continued, unbothered by what was most likely a cogitative look on his face. “Frankie was only being given because both Master, sir Malfoy, and the Lady had agreed to it, when sir Snape took the Little One. So Frankie guesses she is to listen to sir Snape anywhere. Master is different to Frankie than Master Malfoy was, he doesn’t like Frankie hitting herself and doesn’t shout threats at Frankie all that much, so Frankie is liking Master more—“ she suddenly paused and her eyes widened with realisation. Next, perhaps for the lack of any hard objects around, she began hitting herself with her fist.

Remus tried to grab her arm but she whipped it out of his grasp and went on with the self-inflicted punishment. If he didn’t have enough reasons to hate Malfoy yet, a new one was just added to the list – what was a joyful and confident little creature turned into an afraid slave the second she mentioned her old master’s name in an unflattering way.

Meanwhile, Remus was processing what he’d been told. _Wait up... So Teddy was first at the manor, then Severus took him? And why the hell would the Malfoys get rid of an elf for my child? What have I missed? Especially Malfoy senior..._

The inside workings of the Malfoy Manor hadn’t changed much since Harry rescued Dobby from there after all, from the looks of it, and Severus had not been lying when he said that the elf was gabby. Not very secretive, however, which scared Remus a little, though on the other hand it probably was the lack of actual attachment to her Master that provoked the disloyalty.

“Frankie, I order you to stop that.” Remus said firmly, seeing as nothing but a direct demand would be able to get through to her. He wondered how to calm her down, then decided for a: “You have done nothing wrong. Besides, they’re not your Masters anymore, are they?”

Frankie shook her head, reluctantly, though she seemed to settle down – her palm was no longer curled into a fist, though still raised in the air, close to her huge ears.

“Now continue, tell me how you’re liking Hogwarts. And you are allowed to complain, Frankie—“ Remus assured her, prompting her to continue the rant.

The elf put her hands down finally, then looked at him with a strange mix of offense and gratefulness on her face, before she resumed, “--Frankie is not complaining, though she is not liking sir and lady Carrow too much, but apart from that she is being well at Hogwarts. When she isn’t being in the kitchens, at least. She was even ordered to keep her cloth clean, sir Remus is seeing—“ she clearly found that notion scandalizing, for some reason “--because ‘Teddy could be ill if you don’t’, Master says. As if young master Draco would not be—“ she huffed. “Master Snape is reading too much, and so is sir Remus, I is seeing.” Frankie pointed to the library with her chin (or more so – nose), its door open for the last few hours, patiently waiting for his return.

She seemed to have exhausted the subject, so Remus used up the occasion to get some more information out of her. “Tell me Frankie, how did Teddy land in the Manor, if you know anything about that and can tell me?”

“Frankie can tell sir, because Master was saying she can, but she isn’t knowing much—“ she admitted, with an apologetic look in her huge eyes. Then, she proceeded to prove that wasn’t quite the truth, “—Lady got an owl, sent her owl, then sent for Frankie to come to her – Frankie was taking care of the birds before, sir is seeing, the owls and the peacocks – so Frankie came and she told her there would be a Little One and to prepare things. Frankie so did, of course. The day after, lady was returning with the Little One here—“ she was now letting Teddy, who had since woken up, touch her nose and thus spoke towards him. “—and then sir Snape, who was coming before and Frankie remembered him, because he was only kicking Frankie when sir Malfoy was seeing—“ _Merlin is she indiscreet, but it’s good to know he’s not a complete monster,_ Remus remarked to himself, “—was around the Little One sometimes and lady ordered Frankie to tell him things. Sir Snape wasn’t getting mad at Frankie for instructing him, so Frankie did tell him a lot of things. He is still not being best with the Little One, but he is getting better--” that, she added in a hushed tone of informal secrecy and again made a movement as if she was about to hit herself with her fist, but Remus automatically stopped her before she could start doing that.

“—And then Lady told Frankie all about the moving and Frankie was placed here, sometimes with master and the Little One, but most of the time with the other elves in the kitchens. And Frankie was cooking, but also repairing things and being watched by lady and sir Carrow. Frankie is more than happy not to be in the kitchens anymore, sir Remus is seeing.” The Hogwarts’ kitchens, clearly, have been a traumatic part of Frankie’s life, based on how many times she had repeated that.

The house elf, having told him what he had wanted to hear and more, now went to feed Teddy (though Remus tried, and failed, to persuade her that he could do it just as well). Then, after Remus was given the dinner, he was left to do whatever he wished, since Teddy had been laid back to sleep in the cradle.

\---

He had plenty of time at his disposal before the next time the child was likely to wake up, so he decided to take a bath. The bathroom (which looked like it had not been modified since Dumbledore's dwelling in the chambers) was huge, heavily lit with candles, warmly coloured – vanilla and golden hues, instead of the black, grey or silver and green – and had a huge bathtub. Remus had noticed that earlier, despite his later outrage about the bed, and since the house at Spinner’s only had a shower, had very much longed for testing it since. It did have a shower as well, but he cared little for that now.

There was, expectedly, a cabinet labelled Lupin ( _goddamned Snape’s over-preparedness_ ) in which, as he had been told by Frankie, when he informed her about his plan to be unavailable for a while if Teddy needed him, there’d be his towel, brush, toothbrush and such. There also were slippers next to his pyjamas. In Spinner’s there was no such thing, though Remus had been given shoes (probably ones more expansive than any he had had before, which honestly, was starting to be a tad of an issue for him). Since he was not leaving the house anytime soon and Severus had a manic habit of cleaning his own with a spell even in instances where they could not have been dirtied, he didn’t mind. Now, however, it seemed that was Frankie’s touch – she was clearly the one trying to make things cosy, from what he had noticed. He changed into them instantly, putting the leather shoes in the corner, and even managed to perform a cleaning spell on the dust he might have brought in, though at first he merely doubled the amount of it with the charm.

Then, Remus examined himself in the golden-framed mirror critically, which was something he had been dreading and therefore avoiding for quite a time now. He hadn’t been expecting it to talk back at him, but it did – greeting him with a deep voice, “I am sorry to have to say that, but you are wasting away, gentleman.”

He took his appearance in and had to agree with the mirror. His cheeks were indeed more hollow, so perhaps the elf’s worry about his weight wasn’t completely unfounded. He also acquired a few wrinkles. He was positive he hadn’t had as many before – notably ones around his mouth, most definitely not from smiling (as much as he did still do that a lot, though often constrainedly, around Teddy). His skin, however, wasn’t as sallow as he could have expected it to be in confinement - it definitely got a little better since he had woken up. Perhaps thanks to his instinctive positioning himself in places where sun from the windows could reach him (which almost gave him the impression of being able to walk outside into the summery heat). The stubble kept growing more chaotically than it used to, mainly because of his ineptness with a sharp razor and because he couldn’t have been forced to care about it too much. He decided not to try to shave himself with a wand that did not entirely accept him as his master. Remus was sure Frankie would save him from eventual bleeding out, but what he wasn’t sure about, was that he would not complete Severus’ sneer about it with a trickle of blood from a broken nose. Therefore, for now, he just washed his face.

His locks were far too long, he noted, so a haircut was in store for him as well, for when he’d received a wand. Remus assessed that they did not need washing yet, since now that the hair grew out a little, it also took longer for it to get dirty (unless it was jet black and fine, not that he was pointing fingers at anyone). Remus run his hand through his hair now, judging that he definitely had not yet gone past that point, and continued his self-appraisal. He had bags under his eyes, the very distinct post-full-moon type, though he thought he inshad been sleeping enough. His robe, from the slick material that hadn’t quite stopped bothering him as Malfoyish (though it was very comfortable), was currently half-open, revealing the scarred body with unhealthily visible bones. He was swimming in it, and it wasn’t just because it had been measured for Snape’s height, because in the beginning that effect wasn’t quite so pronounced. The black colour of it additionally highlighted both the white and pink scar tissue and the paleness of the skin (which, again – by his standards wasn’t horrible, but he still did look like he had escaped from a coffin).

_That’s exactly what I did, actually._

The mirror decided to say something about it as well, and Remus was part stunned, part offended by the accuracy of it – “You look like a widower. Cheer up, gentleman.” To that, Remus had to take a deep breath and remind himself that breaking things that did not belong to him wasn’t a kind thing to do, even when one had a good reason to. Then he took out his (black) towel and began filling the bathtub.

It had a tap with bubbles, similar to the one he had remembered from the Prefects’ Bathroom, and Remus indulged in that, filling the bathroom with swirling ones that blew up with a sprinkle of golden and purple drops. Leaving the robe and the rest of his clothes on the rack by the door, Remus (this time not gracing the tactless mirror with a glance) glided into the bathtub. It was spacious enough for him to stretch his limbs and he let the warm water engulf him up to his collarbones for a while.

Then, he propelled himself up into another position, one with his elbows and half the chest above the line of the water, his wand on the rim of the tub (which, apart from it and his reading, was empty). He had brought with him a book he chose at random – a tome on wizard fashion throughout the centuries ( _definitely not Snape’s_ ), to take his mind off of every issue perturbing it. The bubbles and the steam coming from the water calmed his nerves, so strained today already, though he did keep listening for Teddy’s cries automatically either way. The child, however, based on the sounds (or lack of thereof) was still sleeping soundly. Either way, Frankie was shuttling from the kitchen to the bedroom with light steps, to check on the Little One every now and then.

Remus had read two chapters of his book, one on Japanese wizarding cloaks in the middle ages and the second one – on Arabian ones, before he became bored enough to leave the comfort of the bathtub. The water was already cooling down and his skin, on the hand that he was dipping in the foam, had turned pruned. He carefully got up onto the mat in front, then dried himself thoroughly, put his robes back on and drained the tub. He struggled a little to get rid of the water sitting on the tiles – his recalcitrant wand first made them drizzled more, until it listened to his spell on the third try.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he realised with surprise that it was already way past 9 pm. _I’ve become far too practiced in burning daylight, lately._ Especially now, that Frankie had taken more than a half of his duties around the kid and wouldn’t let him protest, he knew he’d feel idle, which was not something he had come to associate with being in hiding. He promised himself that once he got a proper wand, he would try to either practice various spells every day or make himself useful in some way, on top of teaching Frankie.

He went to the bedroom to put his shoes into the wardrobe or a drawer, if he found one prepared for him. It was indeed, and Frankie, who immediately appeared to his aid, guided him to it – the chest was his, the wardrobe was Snape’s. He, therefore, put the shoes into the lowest drawer, which contained another pair, as he noted with surprise. Then, he sent Frankie away (having to fight her dissent first) – she had her makeshift bed somewhere in the Headmaster’s office, according to her own account.

As he stood, alone in the room except for the sleeping child, in the slowly dying sunlight, Remus only now noticed that on the bed there was a pile of newspapers.

_The promised Prophets._

Something was telling him not to read them, because one thing was a given, judging by Snape’s malicious grin from before – he would not like the contents. He didn’t, however, listen to that voice begging him to preserve his friable peace and took the papers with him to the kitchen. Thankfully, he had not lit the rooms yet, because that stopped him from deciphering much on his way there – otherwise he wasn’t sure his legs would have supported him well. In fact, even though he was sitting on the hard (therefore – substantial) surface of a chair and had the table to lean onto when he skimmed through the first issue, he still felt himself get awfully dizzy immediately once his eyes landed on the first page.

“ _BRAVE VIGILANTE SAVES HIS VILLAGE FROM BEASTS.”_ announced the headline.

Remus, if he currently had it in him to make jokes, would have noted that the Daily Prophet, under Dolores Umbridge’s watchful eye, truly needed to come with a dictionary. ‘Vigilante’ meant ‘murderer’, ‘brave’ was Remus’ ‘ruthless’ and ‘beasts’, finally, were two children of ages that went unstated in the article. Therefore, Remus assumed they must have been young enough for their fate to be undeserved even in the eyes of the general populace. He knew that it was around 6 or 7 years old, when a werewolf ceased to be ‘hardly manageable and very dangerous, but a poor kid’ and turned into a ‘murderous beast’ in people’s eyes. Pictures of the ‘beasts’ transformed had been enclosed, which confirmed his worrisome suspicions – none of them was fully grown yet.

Above that was a bigger photograph on which, instead of small snouts barring their teeth, there was a smiling, handsome young man, winking at the camera – the vigilante in question. Remus shuddered reading the subsequent details of the man’s glorified feat. It was an unauthorised lynch, it seemed. The wizard had observed them transforming during the last Full Moon and planned an attack with others from the village. He was their neighbour – hence how he managed to get the picture presented in the text - of them transformed in some kind of a shed, probably under the influence of Wolfsbane if they hadn’t attacked him then. He used said pictures to convince his mates to help and, when the mother, apparently a single one, was away in town, they came to the house and killed the, then very human, children. The recounting of the deed wasn’t too comprehensive, but enough for Remus to feel a lump in his throat so big, that he wondered for a moment if he wouldn’t completely choke on it.

 _Is this why he didn’t give me this before? To spare me the pain of reading it? Since when does Severus spare anybody anything, not to say - me?_ Remus wasn’t sure if the notion of Snape not wanting him to have to read that was more aggravating or reassuring, but it certainly was shocking.

The rest of the issue reported on more plain matters: a lost enchanted necklace had been found, the witches and wizards working on a cure for Dragon Pox received an award for their work, a new statue of the Dark Lord has been placed in Diagon Alley. Life went on, oblivious to the ongoing genocide.

The next newspaper was similar – to find what he was looking for, Remus fought to force his eyes to only read the headings, so he flicked through the pages rapidly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be apprised so explicitly about the atrocities scared people were capable of, the rest however, he currently deemed - insubstantial fudge. This time the wolf-associated article was on the third page, probably since this hero was less presentable than the last one – the, much smaller photo, showed an old man who lacked a few teeth in his smile. The title, again, was about a saviour, the topic, again, was a murder of a known, very young werewolf – Remus just scanned through it, unable to keep his promise to himself already.

It seemed that the first deed, and the applause it was met with, incited others, or simply the issue sold out well and the editor had decided to find similar topics - the dates weren’t quite so clear.

Each of the Prophets informed about a different town or village, where the magical community had decided to get rid of a lycanthrope (or somebody they thought to be one) on their own, instead of tipping of the authorities. By the time Remus got to the one from Friday, he was absolutely petrified. The victims were mostly those, who avoided being captured before - ones the decree excluded (small children, who would have been captured and kept away from the society, but not murdered) or, in one instance, a person in hiding, like he was. Obviously, the organised, assailing groups of werewolves that he had read about in some of the former issues from the time he was asleep (instead of being transformed himself), if they even existed at all, couldn’t have been so easily attacked by random people. Therefore, those people took their fear and anger out on the innocent.

The paper from Wednesday had its ‘wolf-article’ on the boy who was in hiding, which meant he must have been old enough to be put down according to the laws – above 16 then, if Remus remembered correctly.

Something stung painfully in his heart when he read the boy’s mother’s account. The woman, along with her husband, were soon to be tried for complicity, since they were the ones who enabled him to hide. The father refused to talk to the journalist, and Remus had to push away the thoughts about his own parents, and whether they would have crumbled under this pressure or not. The mother, however, not only willingly gave the interview, but also, meaning to clear herself of charges, probably, depicted the manner in which her son was kept. The boy, officially dead from an attack during the war, though the body had never been found, was locked inside a small room in the cellar, with just a makeshift bed from blankets, not even a mattress, and without light. His mother barely only brought him food once a day and took out the night soil, since there was obviously no armature. She, of course, now presented that not as a necessity to avoid their neighbours from above finding out (which Remus still wouldn’t agree that it was), but rather – something he deserved for being what he was.

In the end, it was their younger daughter who gave them away. According to the article, she told their neighbour, Miss Dwindle, that she believed her brother is alive and the woman went to investigate. Once she did, she asked the little kid to give her the keys, which she complied with, though it was not stated if consciously so. Then, Miss Dwindle, the heroine of the story, hexed the boy so harshly, that he bled out – she did tip the authorities off, but belatedly so. Her act of murder was shown as necessary self defence.

Another of the issues described a story in which the targeted young woman turned out not to be a werewolf, after an investigation had been conducted, but it was already too late. The author, however, did not sound too outraged about it – “ _The young woman gave the false impression of being dangerous, because she had the habit of calling in sick in her job regularly, accordingly to the Moon’s movements, which her co-workers attributed to her being a lycanthrope. Further investigation about this occurrence from last week revealed, that the woman in question suffered from potion-resistant period pains. The three vigilantes who took action on their own now declare that they could not have known about that condition of hers and claim that they should not be held accountable. Most of the local community supports the colleagues of the tragically deceased woman, despite mourning her death.”_ As a follow-up, that Prophet presented a story from the last Full Moon, most likely to reassure the readers that their, and the vigilantes, fear, was entirely rightful.

Remus’ blood was boiling at the contents of the papers again. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening just outside of his safe lodge inside four walls; and to people exactly like him. It was now not only a Ministry-organised assault, but also a downright uncontrolled massacre from the grassroots. Children, murdered in their houses, more than a week before the Full Moon. Remus could not stop obsessing about what would have happened to Teddy if he had inherited his condition. The visions before his eyes were as vivid as the moving photographs of almost-cubs in the newspaper.

To be honest, he liked the perspective of drinking the Subduing Solution more, if he were to have a choice.

Tottering, he dragged himself from the table and to the counter. He managed to set the stove’s ring burning without setting a fire to any of the furniture, so perhaps his wand too felt how much he currently wanted to **bravely** kill a good few ministry officials with his own hands. He set the kettle on, then scoured through the cupboards to find an appropriate tea.

One reason why he was actually in luck for having to share the living space with Severus, out of all people, was that the man owned an impressive stock of herbs and spices, amongst them – various types of tea. The Hogwarts’ chambers weren’t any different in that matter from the Spinner’s End house, since most things had been gradually transferred to them in the last week. _Chamomile should be perfect_ – Remus regarded, putting some leaves into an emerald-coloured pot he had found. Then, he went back to sit, not quite trusting himself to keep a vertical position for long with so much heat cursing through him. With his head between his hands he waited for the kettle’s whistle.

Before that transpired, however, the door opened and, very quietly, Severus entered the kitchen. Remus eyed the man from between his fingers, not sure what to expect of him, and met the his gaze. Severus viewed him and the heap of newspapers before him while hanging his cloak, then probably came to the merciful conclusion that Remus should be left alone for now, since he disappeared in the bedroom without a word.

\---

Remus took the pot and a cup for himself and headed to the library, having scooped the “ _Oriental wizarding fashion over the centuries”_ from underneath the pile of Prophets and holding it under his arm. He then put all of those things down on the small table inside and lit the candles on the walls with a wave of the wand. The door was left behind him slightly ajar, so that he could hear Teddy crying (still not able to have a proper alarm on this wand notifying him about such things).

He had just read the first few sentences about 12th century Huns’ wizards’ clothing and all the uses of horse skin in their magical utensils, when he heard a knock on the door. “What is it Severus?” he asked. It was a sign of just how bad of an emotionally draining day he had, that his voice sounded gruff.

Severus, did not take that brusqueness seriously, apparently. He, having put his shoe in the gap between the door and its frame, now kicked it open and entered, carrying what unmistakably were two glasses of red wine. “Lupin—“ he offered him one, clutched between the bony fingers of his right hand.

Remus looked at him with puzzlement. Out of all days he could have, Severus suddenly had a change of heart about sharing his most cherished beverage now – after what happened in the morning. _Is it guilt?! Or merely a coincidence?_

“What’s gotten into you?“ Remus queried, earnestly curious. “I thought that the limit of your hospitality was sharing the intoxicants of yours.”

“If you do not want it, saying ‘No, thanks.’ will be perfectly sufficient.” Severus pointed out, sounding surprisingly not prickly.

Remus wasn’t that mad at him anymore, especially since this was clearly an apology of sorts, but a part of him did want to give Severus a taste of his own medicine – holding a grudge. Worst that could ensue from this was that Snape wouldn’t talk to him for a while. That certainly had its disadvantages, but would spare him being berated and called names, so now that he had the sprightly company of Frankie if he was desperate for any, he couldn’t say he’d be crestfallen because of that. He already had much graver things to be blue about anyways.

“I do want it, actually—“ Remus replied, reaching out for the glass, but not taking it, yet. “I am simply surprised you are suddenly being nice **now**. To a beast.”

“You are making me regret it, Lupin—“ Severus sighed, shutting his eyes. His left arm twitched upwards as if he wanted to pinch his nose, but then, halfway, realised that he wasn’t empty-handed. Severus then opened his eyes again, and stared at him unblinking. “I simply thought that ‘the beast’—“ he was rather careful to make his attempt at sarcasm on the word apparent. “—might be up for a toast to him not sharing the fate of other werewolves. And to Hogwarts, that as well.”

Both his words and the tone of his voice were rather inconsiderate, to say the least, but the intention was good, so Remus took the wineglass from his hand with a what he hoped to be at least a faint smile. He couldn’t know for sure – one thing the mirror did definitely show him today, was that the corners of his lips seemed to have permanently curved downwards; not that Snape wasn’t having the exact same problem for years now, of course.

Severus now settled himself in the armchair next to him, lounging comfortably, the glass still in his hand. Remus, meanwhile, closed and set aside the book he had been reading.

“Cheers” Snape said half-heartedly, raising his glass towards Remus “or gloom, more like.”

“Gloom, then.” Remus replied, with even less enthusiasm. The glasses clinked.

“So...” Severus began, having drained half of his portion in one gulp, “I assume you have read about the slaughters.”

The straight-forwardness was typical, Remus had gotten used to it. It was the topic itself, however, that made him pause and survey him carefully, before he answered. “Yes. I have scanned through what I was able to.”

“Don’t want to talk about it, I take?”

Severus’ drinking pace was so, that he was currently opening the door with his wand, most likely to presciently levitate the bottle to himself before he’d need another portion. That did, however, give Remus some precious time to consider his question.

_Honestly, I thought **you** would not like to talk about it. You have no idea how much I wish I could talk about it all. And Frankie, sadly, is unlikely a good conversation partner for war-related issues._

Severus, indeed, was summoning the bottle. It now landed in his palm, his fingers curled around its neck tightly and he put it on the table, next to the glass he had previously left there.

Remus blinked a few times to clear his mind, more than his vision, and finally replied to him. “Can I? Really?” he was just as desperate and hopeful as he sounded.

He would give a lot for a simple chance to vent, but he’d had the impression that wouldn’t wash with his host. Severus, despite his grumpiness, was already doing so much for him, that Remus even felt guilty now for presenting his complaints earlier; not to say sharing the whole emotional load he was aware he was carrying (and equally aware Severus would not know what to do about, if his reaction to Remus’ crying was anything to base upon).

“Are you sure you want to listen to this? Or will you storm out if I say something wrong?” he wanted to assure.

“I will not storm out.” Severus promised firmly, his eyes, uniformly black in the dim light of the library, boring into Remus with all his solemnity accumulated.

“Then yes.” Remus said sincerely.

The door was closed and, from what he had deduced it was quite sound-proof, so he let some of his emotions into his voice. For as long as Teddy wouldn’t be woken up by it, it was quite a release to do so, and since Severus made a promise... “They are only targeting werewolves, because it’s a whole lot easier to make the general public hate us than it is muggleborns, right? So they don’t have to deal with where they failed, like you’ve implied yourself. And well, I am obviously not okay with that, I am furious and terrified and—“ his voice wavered slightly and, since he had no intention of breaking down in front of Snape ever again, he paused.

Severus was currently filling his own glass with wine, though looking at Remus all the while. His skill, apparently, enabled him to do such things blindly. He now tilted the bottle towards Lupin questioningly. Remus had not yet drunk half of what he had gotten, so he shook his head, then continued “—And outraged, but it is... it is sort of what I was convinced my whole life that would happen, sooner or later.” Severus’ brow twitched a tad, with curiosity, perhaps.

Remus paused to gather his thoughts, taking a sip of his wine.

 _Now again, why am I telling him this?_ Was he really going to bare his soul just because Snape offered to listen? Was he really that desperate? _Severus had always hated werewolves, no matter what he says (and is doing) now, so doesn’t he have some ulterior motive here?_ Remus wished that he could ignore the past, very badly, but at the same time he wasn’t entirely sure it would be wise for him to do so.

Besides, Severus was, according to all evidence, an extremely talented liar – therefore Remus shouldn’t really trust a word of his, and yet -- he really wanted to be able to. However, he had his misgivings and very justifiable ones. _Won’t he use it against me somehow, whatever I tell him?_ And, on the other hand – _isn’t it incredibly ungrateful of me, at this point, to even suspect that he would?_

The contents of the Prophets made Remus actually grasp what could have been, for the first time since he woke up. That, instead of just making him appreciate what he had right now, rocked the already shaky foundations of his belief in Snape’s kind-heartedness. Severus had all the power in this situation, exactly like Remus had remarked earlier. While he was abusing it – Remus was not going to eat his shirt on this matter, the whole ‘keeping Lupin in the dark’ was a sort of abuse – there was a completely different scale of abuse available, which Snape apparently did not wish to leech onto.

Somehow, most of the possibilities about how Severus could have treated him (and Teddy) hadn’t crossed Remus head before. He was anxious, of course, especially about Teddy’s fate, but, perhaps from innate naivety, the idea that Severus could, say – actually not treat him like a human he knew well and rather disliked, but like a prisoner or a straight-up monster, had never before crossed his mind in its full questionable glory.

After it did dawn on him, however, Remus was honestly bewildered that such a thing did not happen. He remembered how Severus had acted towards him when Sirius appeared in the Shack, and the small, ignoble part of Remus that lacked faith in people, was stupefied that he didn’t wake up from his coma in magical restraints, in some kind of a dungeon. Severus now coming to talk to him, or even console him perhaps, **of his own free will** deepened this shock tremendously. Remus had no idea what to make of it all.

Perhaps he wasn’t mistaken years ago, when he was trying to convince Sirius (who was, at the time, very much keen on strangling Snape for making Remus lose his job) that Severus wasn’t an entirely bad person. That he had made mistakes and also - assumed things he shouldn’t have, but that most people would have, in his place, and that he was simply a socially inept, stubbornly vengeful... “complete fucking prick who tried to make both of us die”, like Sirius finished the sentence for him. He had since revoked those words (though Sirius, sadly, wasn’t there to witness it anymore) – what happened with Dumbledore was a little more than ‘not being a nice person’ or even ‘losing one’s way in early youth’, and could hardly be justified. But now Remus wondered, whether he maybe shouldn’t have. Maybe he didn’t know something crucial for the case. Severus did seem sombre on the mention of Dumbledore, after all. Though it was, of course, possible that he would regret it despite having meant it and that all he was doing now was just his self-ordered expiation for what he had committed. It was hard to guess. He was hard to read, in general.

Whatever his actual reasons for it were, Severus had not, so far, given him any actual ground for being suspicious of his motives. He was not going to talk about them, apparently, but they clearly fell close to ‘we were both in the Order, therefore I do not wish to let you die, if I can prevent it’. In practice, Severus’ efforts to do so, were quite more elaborate than the bare minimum, so Remus, in the end, resolved to keep giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Remus only realised that he had drifted off, when Severus’ pale hand waved in front of him. “Lupin, are you there?“ he asked and Remus’ head flinched. Coming back to reality, he nodded affirmatively. “Now I am not so sure I **should** be offering you any more wine—“ Severus continued, “—however...” and without waiting for his confirmation he filled Remus’ glass up again. Remus was rather shocked to discover that he had emptied it, in the first place, but didn’t protest.

Remus took a sip, then tried to search for his lost train of thought. When he managed to catch it, he began again. “--So, as I was saying, now that the first wave of shock is gone, I am almost convinced that this would have happened sooner or later, Voldemort or no. Because if he didn’t win, then all werewolves - because of those who fought by his side - would be demonised even more than they had already been, I am sure of that. And this would end up with the registry getting tighter and tighter, and finally something like that – like the Subduing Solution coming into effect. The only difference would be the names of people who made the legislation.” Remus heard his voice get heavier and louder, so he stopped again to drink.

Severus was watching him intently, though apart from the gaze – he gave no signs of acknowledgement, resigning to passively letting him talk.

“But what makes me most shocked, most sick, about all this... Is the lynch. So you were right to try to keep me away from it—“ Remus confessed, but Snape didn’t react to that in any way, “—though I am thankful you didn’t in the end, because as much as it’s horrifying, I’d rather know the truth.” He took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm himself down. “Because why in Merlin’s name are they allowing this? Stirring it, even. It’s one thing to be saying that werewolves are monsters, but why the hell are they literally encouraging people to murder others? If there’s a top-down order to kill us already in place – why set people on us too? And on children! Children!”

Severus did not so much as twitch when Remus yelled, which kind of spurred him to continue that way.

“Why the fuck would anyone kill a child as a human?! And when they were clearly on the potion when transformed, or else the man would have been ripped to shreds coming to take a photo! I don’t get it, Severus, I don’t get how a normal person could murder a kid in cold blood, or their colleague, or neighbour from downstairs, or anyone, for that matter, solely because they THINK they are the danger!” Remus had shouted himself out of his breath and now was waiting for Snape to react in any manner.

Severus sat there silent for a while once Remus was finished speaking, with his finger tracing the rim of the glass absently. It suddenly halted and he began, “Fear is your answer, Lupin. Skilfully fanned, fear becomes fuel for hate. The Dark Lord is a master of channelling others’ fear however he wishes. And why the reaction is so violent?” he paused, quickly gulped from his glass, then returned to playing with it. “Well, it is somewhat harder to spark such horror against your mudblood neighbour—“ Severus used the slur again, but Remus restrained himself from admonishing him, since he didn’t correct his ‘Voldemort’ before. _Force of habit, let’s say that’s excusable._ “--when you know and are fond of him. A werewolf, on the other hand, is a fraud, by definition--”

Remus opened his mouth to interject, feeling his cheeks flush with blood. Most atypically, however, Severus didn’t let that irritation transfer to himself. “Hold your horses, Lupin, and let me finish, will you?” he raised a placating hand at him, having stopped stroking his wineglass with it. “Is a fraud, in said neighbour’s eyes, because they are not what they seem to be. With a muggleborn you get what you see – well, apart from some purebloods flying into fits of rage when their beautiful darling turns out to be one – but with a lycanthrope...” Severus gestured to him. “In one moment you have a, let’s say a yourself, in another – an actual dangerous monster, because there, I hope, you are not going to quarrel.”

“Okay, yes, I agree with that.” Remus admitted, quite floored about that fact. “I see it the same way. That's the whole problem, actually. The whole problem is that I understand where the fear is coming from. God, I fear myself, maybe even more than people fear me. And I fear the fear, that as well. I’ve seen it a good few times, you know. Glistening in people’s eyes the moment I answered them why I was indisposed on three subsequent Full Moons. People who would, or even did, like me, would stop doing so once they had found out. And they’d be pissed off, as if I had lied to them by not being a beast for most of the month.” Severus smiled wryly and knowingly, on that, though he didn’t interject. “But why children? Why the hell is it children?” Remus wondered hopelessly. His voice however, perhaps due to the rising percentage of alcohol in his veins, was no longer as wistful as it was a moment ago and neither was he.

“Because they are always the easiest to get to.” Severus stated, matter-of-factly. His eyes, Remus noted, unwittingly moved to the right of the door, in the direction of where Teddy was sleeping out in the bedroom.

That reminded Remus of a question he’d been meaning to ask, and one that would also facilitate a change of topic to one less depressing, which, he realised, he would prefer for now. “Switching to less morbid subjects—“ he began, “—You haven’t really told me why the bed is only one, earlier. Whatever the mysterious ‘I have to keep cover in the private chambers’ means. Are you method-acting, perhaps?”

“What is method-acting, if you may? Muggle culture escapes me, at times.” Severus inquired, refilling both of their glasses (though they hadn’t been completely empty yet), again – without giving them so much as a glance, yet with a hand steady enough not to spill a droplet.

Remus, though pretty aware that it was a diversion, elucidated. “When an actor adapts a part and keeps acting like the character for the whole time, not only when he’s performing. Muggles use that for movies quite often, as far as I can tell. Also – it’s a way to explain to your roommate why you are an arsehole without actually admitting that you are. Living with muggles, at times was quite the experience—“ he added, in reply to the other man’s interrogative expression. “--I can tell you all about it later, but now you’re just trying to change the subject, Severus.”

“That is because I am very much too sober to tell you what you want to know, Lupin.”

Remus wasn’t so sure about that. The candles in the library didn’t give enough light to tell such symptoms well, but Severus’ face looked quite flushed currently (though with his pace it was to be expected) and from the very start his breaths were unnaturally shallow. Remus had the dubitable fortune of being able to tell such things without even focusing on them too much.

“That’s nowhere near a reassuring answer.” he now told Severus, hoping to get out of him some more about the topic.

Severus was observing him with narrowed eyes from above the rim of his glass. “I would not touch you, if that is the reassurance you are seeking.”

“That you have made pretty damn clear already.” Remus felt the anger from the morning re-awaken in him, but he did his best to quell it. “But then what is it?”

“Do leave it, will you?” Severus said firmly, now passing his glass from one hand to another. The dark red liquid in it ( _probably it’s a wine from the Malfoy Apothecary, since it’s definitely enchanted; though I’m not sure I want to know_ ) plopped lightly with that movement. “You would be alone in it either way, tonight.”

“You are not going to sleep?” Remus tilted his head at him with confusion.

“I will be brewing.”

Remus’ raised brows turned into a frown. “Drunk?”

“No. There is a potion for that.” Judging by Severus’ tone, it was both common knowledge and a common practice for him. Now that - was kind of worrying.

“Mind if I ask what you’ll be brewing?” Remus queried, forcing himself to sound sheepish, not demanding.

Severus languidly finished another glass, probably his second-and-a-half if Remus hadn’t lost count yet, before replying: “Wolfsbane, obviously.”

“For me?!” Remus gasped, partly in shock that he was going to have a steady supply of the potion again, and partly in terror that Snape was planning to make one of the most difficult brews he knew of in a dubious state of reverse-drugged sobriety.

Clearly, he had sounded aggressive, because Severus’ voice gained an edge he had not heard earlier that evening. “No, for fun. For fuck’s sake, Lupin, put on your thinking cap, will you? Because you do need it.”

“I slipped, okay? Stupid question. Doesn’t mean I am stupid.”

“Mhm.” Severus didn’t sound the least bit convinced.

“I simply thought that you’d give me the draught again.” Remus expounded with a half-lie to humour him a little.

“And let your liver die before it recovers from the last one. A splendid concept. Where in Hogwarts do you want to be buried, Lupin? Is underneath your Willow fine?” Severus turned to the familiar territory of a sneer, but his voice lacked the usual malice. Nevertheless, Remus pulled a face at him. “Besides, the draught is for emergencies.”

“Like?”

“Like, for example, you being discovered here—“ Severus said, in the over-exaggeratedly tired voice of a teacher, talking to what he considered to be a flock of dimwits. Similar one could have been heard from his classes, back when the two of them were colleagues.

“And how would the draught help in that?” Remus asked, taking the role of a foolish student, though one that was allowed to sip wine during the lessons.

“Simply – draught and a whole lot of Polyjuice--” Severus’ exhaustion persisted, but apart from that his tone was _informative?_. “In case somebody became aware of your presence here, though not yet of who exactly you are. That would probably indeed ruin your liver, but it would also turn you into a plain human being in a coma, instead of a double-criminal, of choice and of blood.”

Another Snape’s plan for a very specific type of ‘the worst’, which was (hopefully) unlikely to happen. _He is completely paranoid if he’s got such things thought through already. Though isn’t that what we both have to be, if we want to survive?_

Suddenly, it dawned on Remus how this man managed to befool both sides completely – why, after all the events, his true allegiance was still unclear. He felt equally afraid of that ability of his and grateful that he had it, partly, at his disposal – because given the circumstances, Severus was probably the best adapted to survive, out of all the people Remus knew. He was a perjurer, bringing deception to a whole new level, no matter whether he truly had been a double agent. However, (in Remus’ opinion) he had survived for so long mainly because of what he was displaying now, and that was - that Severus Snape had the thought process of a startled doe. An exceptionally intelligent and quite ruthless a doe, but nevertheless a doe – ready to run away at any moment and constantly alert for enemies.

The absurdity of said doe rescuing a wolf registered with Remus a moment later and he started laughing. “You are completely paranoid, Severus...”

“I have to be.” Severus cut in sharply, most likely offended by his chuckling.

“I know.” Remus recovered himself swiftly. “You’re completely paranoid, but you’re also brilliant.”

Severus raised his brow at the blandishment. “Am I, now?”

“I mean it—“ Remus tried to assure him. “You have a plan for every scenario, no matter how unlikely it seems, all devised and ready, don’t you?”

Severus had a sip of wine before replying. “Every probable one.” he clarified.

“Probable?” Remus’ wondered with mild surprise, hoping not to get too much on his nerves with the critique. “Since when things like someone noticing a single elf long-distant apparition are probable?”

Severus, luckily, remained relaxed. “Frankie told you, didn’t she? I was surprised you did not pick that up yourself, to be frank—“ Once he had said that, getting Remus’ nod as a confirmation, his expression now changed to a more grave one. “And, to answer your question – since we are at constant war. Or you are, at least, because of what... who—“he stumbled on the words, “--of your affliction. And if something is not completely improbable, then it’s likely.”

“Oh well. That’s one way to see it. But truly, you’re planning on teaching an elf Occlumency. That is a whole different level of subterfuge.”

Severus took a long sip of wine and only then answered, vaguely pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand. “I am only doing what I believe crucial for the survival of, currently the two of you. Usually just myself, if anyone.”

“But now it’s me and Teddy?” Remus marvelled at Snape’s sincerity.

He now had complete confidence that Severus was under the influence of something, probably more than just the wine. He was far too tolerative and open not to be. However, as long as that was not to become a habit (the amount of alcohol the man was consuming already disturbed Remus enough, but it really wasn’t his place to tell him not to), it was probably nothing to worry about. A tad bit of intoxicated candour had never killed anyone, in Remus’ experience.

“What about you then?” he probed.

“Either all remains like it is now and I come out unscathed, while you, for example, have to be kept in a coma, or I die--” Severus replied simply.

“Fine odds.” Remus declared with irony.

The onyxes of Snape’s eyes bore into him gravely. “--Agreed.“

“Did I ever say thank you, by the way?” Remus pondered, receiving only an noncommittal shrug in response. Severus definitely wasn’t comfortable with accepting gratefulness, so he left it be. Once he had said something positive, however, he decided to risk it. “--Coming back to the Wolfsbane, though... I know you’re the Potions Master here—“ Severus shook his head, “—Yeah, not anymore, though skill wise still, I’d suppose, but are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Don’t panic Lupin, I will not be using aconite in this state. Saving you to kill you with my own idiocy would be highly counterproductive.”

“Let’s say I trust you on this, then.” Remus replied, though he still wasn’t completely assuaged in his worry.

“You better.” Severus slipped back into a professor’s tone almost immediately. _Or Pomfrey-ish one. I wonder how she’s doing these days, by the way..._ “You will begin taking it the moment it is ready. If you omit one, ever, and don’t notify me early enough for me to do something about that, then I do not take responsibility for what I am going to do.”

He might have been uncharacteristically nice for himself, today, but that of course didn’t mean he would have stopped being bitter at Remus’ past mistakes, from the looks of it.

“There’s no need to threaten me, Severus. That was one time, and a very unusual situation, I’d say. Provided there’s no upheavals of that size again, I can account for myself.” Remus defended his own honour. “Really. It’s not like I want to kill or bite you and--“ his voice suddenly got treacherously unsteady.

“I’ll tell you what I tell the other Lupin a lot – no crying.” Severus interrupted. “Besides, about that you needn’t worry. Each of Teddy’s cradles has a charm on it that will kill you to save him, if necessary.”

“Does he, now?” Remus wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“It is not werewolf specific—“ Severus _tried to reassure_ him, “--though I did look it up when I wasn’t entirely positive that you would not transform under the draught’s influence.”

“And you used it on the cradle here, even though I am to be on Wolfsbane and locked in a warded room?” Remus inquired part with wonder, part with a hint of apprehension on just how much exactly Severus considered him to be a mindless beast even on the potion.

Today, Remus’ image on how Snape perceived that issue, had turned round 180 degrees twice already, so he was rather at a loss.

“That is called limiting the risk, Lupin.” Severus informed, though this time his tone was less firm again, almost mellow.

“Sure.” Remus took some comfort from that change. “And thanks, it’s a reasonable solution, agreed. Just... have I told you that you’re utterly paranoid, perhaps even more than I am?” he asked with a half-smile.

“I feel like you have mentioned it, Lupin.”

Severus had finished his wine and asked him with a glance if he wanted a top-up. Remus shook his head, perfectly content with limiting himself to what he still had in his glass. Severus, however, was clearly set on achieving the not-sober state he had mentioned earlier.

“So yeah, you definitely are. But as I’ve also mentioned - that’s great, actually—” Remus said. “By the way, when will I get a proper wand? Because this one, instead of instilling courage, instils irritation by sometimes doing the exact opposite of what I’m trying to achieve. And I desperately need a haircut. Besides, you have a very mean mirror—“ he complained.

“Albus’.” Severus lips formed an askew grin at the mention of it. “It is horribly fond of telling me to smile more. What did it say to you?”

“That I’m wasting away—“ Remus began recounting.

“Correct.” Severus cut in. ”You need to gain your weight back, though I will make adjustments on your Wolfsbane accordingly, for now.”

“You’re not helping you know?” he replied in a falsely offended tone. Reality was reality and, in this case – it was him being far too bony. Severus shrugged indifferently on that listless accusation. Remus took another sip from his glass, then amended “It also called me a widower.”

“Oh.” Severus’ brow jumped up. “Is it still intact?”

“As surprised as that makes me as well, yes, it is.” Remus confessed. Something else, however, was now on his mind. “By the way, is it you who ordered Frankie to make me eat so much, then?”

Severus shrugged again, though it was hard to guess the exact meaning of that. Then, however, he drunk at least a quarter of his glass and abruptly changed the topic to what Remus had touched at earlier. “About the wands – they are all stashed in the office. You may come chose one that fits you best, though maybe tomorrow night rather than right now.”

 _And that is my another confirmation that you are secretly a Mrs. Weasley, but will die before you admit it._ – Remus remarked in the privacy of his own mind. Severus himself looked like he’d forgotten to eat or sleep for two consecutive weeks at least, but he had ordered an elf to, apparently, keep the ‘captive’ alive and well fed.

“Yes, that would probably be best. Can I ask about the bed now?” He was slowly getting sleepy and, besides, Severus wanted to be asked once he wasn’t sober – a quick glance at him could tell that he currently rather wasn’t. Remus, again, deemed that he was maybe a tad too languid for it to be just alcohol, then focused on emptying his own glass.

“You are not going to let that go, will you, Lupin?” Severus asked discouragingly. He was now taking his wand out again, and, a moment later, another bottle landed in the library, levitated carefully through the door.

“I mean... you’re the one who painted yourself in that corner, not me.” Remus replied, shrugging and trying not to look reproachingly at the fact that Severus was filling both of their glasses again. The wine, however, had wiped Remus’ sadness away enough for him to continue in a mocking tone, “--or painted the two of us, together, actually.”

“Brrr, Lupin, don’t say such things, I beg of you—“ Severus overplayed an animated shudder. “May I remind you, we hate each other—“

 _I don’t **hate** you!_ \-- Remus wanted to interject, but in the end decided to hold it in. He was wary of Severus because of what he still suspected to have been treason, of course. Yet, at the same time, he believed that poisoning oneself with loathing wasn’t the best approach to anything (or anyone). Severus, on the other hand, _certainly needs that remainder himself_ , considering how he had never seemed to mind nursing resentment in the past, but now it apparently took him two weeks to stop loathing Remus.

“—This—“ Severus gestured around them with the glass, somehow keeping it stable meanwhile, “—is a temporary truce, inspired and even partly sponsored by the Dark Lord Himself. Just settle for the transformation room then, and spare me the elucidation.”

 _Transformation room?_ Remus barely remembered it being mentioned earlier, though now he was able to recall that Severus indeed had spoken of it. “And why would I do that? I want Teddy to be close to me and Frankie’s already undermining that quite greatly. She barely listens to my commands concerning that—“

“Oh yes, I thought she’d be behaving this way. Especially with you.” Severus stated cryptically.

 _And yet another try at swerving away from the topic_ – Remus judged. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, however, and with honest interest.

“I am more Malfoy-ish, lately, than you are and still she does not quite ‘respect me’ as much as she did Lucius. Most likely because there is already care where there used to be only fear.” Severus said, again shocking Remus with being so earnest, even if it was on what he had found out from Frankie anyways. “I am not trying to offend you, Lupin—“ _which is something one only says when they know they will_ , “--but you yourself look like you are a house elf, in terms of exhaustion.” At this point Remus sniggered quietly. It was a jeer, but a quite accurate one. Severus, smirking, continued, “Frankie ‘is meaning well’ as she’d phrase it. Besides you’ve had two weeks of almost constant childcare—“

“I know, but I’m kind of afraid it’ll somehow get me further from Teddy if I don’t do everything, you see, Severus?” Remus’ inner panicked father was allowed to speak.

“Surprisingly, I do.” Severus looked at him fervently. “But get yourself a distraction, will you. A book or whatnot.”

“Any recommendations? I’ve been reading this –“ Remus gestured to the glistening cover on the table.

Severus glanced at it appraisingly. “Albus’ hobbies--” he snorted with scorn. For a person who hated Dumbledore’s taste so much, he kept an awful lot of his things, in Remus’ opinion.

“I will be transporting both the rejected contents of the school’s library and everything from mine to here tomorrow, probably. I can leave you something on the nightstand, if you so wish—“ Severus said with a sort of a sly grin. He then amended, though with the characteristic lack of substance in the thrown in details. “—Russian literature. Muggle, but not completely abominable. A tad bit about yourself, I daresay.”

 _Is it about wolves?_ \- Remus wanted to ask. It apparently wasn’t in tonight’s Snape custom to throw jabs at his wolfishness, but Remus remained on guard.

Severus, however, continued without leaving a pause for him to interrupt. “Besides, speaking of Russians, once I bring the rest of things from Spinner’s, you can continue with the _“Hindering”._ ”

“You’ve noticed?!” Remus exclaimed with surprise. When Severus nodded silently from above his glass, he continued, still astonished. “--And you don’t mind?! What is it for, by the way?”

“Why would I? Do you think I have a habit of leaving my secrets out in the open, Lupin?” Severus wondered with a note of deride. “It is mainly for Lucius Malfoy not being able to read the child’s mind or affect it, when the boy is so young—“ he continued explaining in a more serious tone. “Teddy will be visiting the Manor quite a lot--” Severus announced, Remus probably winced at that, as if the sentence was extremely sour, “--you’ll have to bear it, Lupin, blood is thicker than water. Therefore, I have decided to take some of my ‘paranoid’ precautions.”

“I don’t like that vision. I don’t like the Malfoys anywhere near him.” Remus argued, rather firmly.

Severus’ gaze swiftly turned to stone, but his voice was still soft. “You do not have a say in that, Lupin. Ci... Narcissa saved him, as disgruntling and unbelievable as that clearly seems to you.”

There was an unexpected _shadow of affection?_ in the manner with which Severus said the witch’s name. _Is there something I should, or more likely, from his perspective - should not, know about?_

Just to be on the safe side, Remus corrected himself. “I don’t have anything against Narcissa, honestly. I am shocked and all, but I get that Andromeda must have asked her for help in the very last moment, and I’m glad she took him in. But I am afraid for him, mainly of Malfoy senior. I saw Draco’s reflexes when I taught. It’s not a safe house for a child.”

“Indeed.” Severus clearly wasn’t going to defend the honour of Mister Malfoy, it sounded like. “Hence why I am not saying it is. However, Lucius does not hit him, if that is what you are afraid of. The boy is too young for that to be hidden from Narcissa, I assume. Besides, he would not touch him, unless with the cane.”

“THE CANE?!” Remus yelled, stopping himself when he was already out of his seat.

“Easy, Lupin.” Severus said languidly, as if he barely registered that occurrence, while Remus settled himself back into the armchair. “Moves him out of his way with it, does not hit him, as I have said. Narcissa would have murdered him, if he tried. She may not look like the type to you, but she’s a lioness when it comes to protecting her child, and she treats Edward almost as her own. Even though it must be rather painful to do so.”

Before Remus had had the chance to ask why would it be ‘painful’ for Narcissa to take care of Teddy, let alone come back to the initial question about the bed, Severus’ left sleeve began moving on its own. He slid out his wand to show that it was vibrating with an alarm.

“My time is up.” he informed Remus, standing up from the armchair. He then quickly emptied what was left in his glass and put it down onto the table. “’Night, Lupin.” He turned with a swish of his robe, and like that, he was gone from the library in swift steps.

Severus was already out the door when Remus replied to him with a “Good night, Severus.”, though, based on the fact that he headed straight to the laboratory, that was likely a wish that was to remain unfulfilled.

\---

Remus woke up to the sun pouring into the bedroom. He had chosen the left side of the bed, which was closer to the window, for his slumber, and was now regretting that deeply. The light blinded him when Remus opened his eyes sleepily and he felt a headache gathering in his skull. _Wonder if Snape’s got a potion for that at the ready._ Somebody, it seemed, had pulled away the canopy and tied it to the posters. Once his vision had adjusted to the brightness, he noticed Frankie standing in front of the window, holding Teddy. She must have been the one to have decided to wake him up by drawing all the curtains away.

She looked at him reproachingly. “You was saying – Frankie go to sleep, then Frankie is waking to see that the Little One is crying his eyes out, sir Remus. That’s what it is being like, Frankie’s seeing. And, of course –“ her pointy finger stabbed the air, aiming somewhere to Remus’ left. “—where was Frankie finding a mess in the morning? Where the books are!” She managed to omit the fact that said ‘mess’ was definitely one signifying the presence of alcohol and was solely angry at her sworn enemy that books apparently were.

Remus brought his hand to his temples and massaged them a little, closing his eyes to limit the exposure to the merciless rays of sun.

 _How many have I had once Severus left?_ Clearly more than nothing, based on the gap in his mind. Frankie, still watching him with chide, was likely to make him feel even more ashamed of himself, if he didn’t immediately go to eat breakfast, that much he was sure of. _Goodness gracious, since when am I this irresponsible?_

He opened his eyes again, fighting against the slightly heavy eyelids and looked at Teddy guiltily. The child, however, seemed to be absolutely fine, even – delighted, in the elf’s embrace.

“Is sir coming to eat or is Frankie to bring food to him?” she offered, though still with a note of reprimand.

“I’m coming--” Remus replied, hoarsely. Potions aside, he could really use some water.

Frankie, having gotten the response she needed, swiftly left the room, staring him down while she was walking around the bed. At least Teddy found that amusing, laughing brightly, though, unfortunately, currently that was causing pain to Remus’ oversensitive ears.

Remus realised that he was not wearing the nightrobe, but his day-clothes and his annoyance at himself only grew. Next, he rolled over to the edge of the bed and threw his legs over it. He dragged himself up straight, holding onto the column supporting the canopy. In an attempt to wait for balance to find him long before he stood up, and to limit the amount of sunlight reaching him meanwhile, he glanced to the nightstand on his left. There was something on it - a book in a worn, red-and-black hard cover. The white lettering on it announced the very telling title: “’ _The Idiot’ by Fyodor Dostoyevsky”._


	5. The Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know birds don't carry letters in their beaks, but the expression was more neat than empty-legged or empty-clawed. 
> 
> **Trigger warnings:** alcohol/drugs addiction mentions. 

Unfortunately, the Sobering Potion first only cancelled out the effects of alcohol alone. The other substance’s it, clearly, temporarily enhanced.

Therefore now, while he was preparing the solution to soak the valerian roots in, Severus heard the stern, high-pitched voice of Minerva McGonagall next to his ear, yelling exactly what he thought himself. “Who on Earth mixes up three—THREE! – intoxicants in less than twenty-four hours and in such quantities! Unawares of the effects! A headmaster! Never have I seen—! Severus, you foolish...”

“Severus is misguided and still very much prone to self-destruction, it seems, Minerva. A fool, however, he is not—” interrupted the deep voice of Severus’ deceased predecessor. That last note he most certainly could not agree with.

_There is no need for me to convince anyone that your picture should be hanged again, because you will haunt me either way, won’t you Albus?_

_And, besides, isn’t it ridiculous that I only started calling you that after you made me kill you?_

Thanks to the artificial calm, Severus paid no heed to all that admonishing, as if it was customary for him to hear voices. The thoughts came and went, like a stream. Fortunately, no drug could disrupt his trained gestures. He poured the ingredients into the water in the silver cauldron and set a fire underneath it. Then, he began stirring the essence steadily, throwing the powdered silver into it in pinches.

Next, he took out a knife and began slicing the valerian roots. Atypically for himself, he was not tracing the time thoroughly. Instead, he shot supervising glances at the simmering mixture. Once it began bubbling, he put the roots into the liquid and mitigated the flames.

Now he had to wait for the potion to change colour into properly silver, when the powder would dissolve. This he should be able to trace without effort, even in his current detachment from such mundane things as the passing of time.

The quarrel in his head continued, but it had quietened a tad. Currently his figment of imagination that spoke in Dumbledore’s words was trying to convince the hallucinated Minerva that he, Snape, was able to govern a school. Or “properly take care of the students in these difficult times” as she had phrased it.

Severus swept over to the counter in the corner and placed the vial from his pocket on it. The draught inside was dark navy, instead of the turquoise colour it would have acquired without his tinkering with the recipe. Next to it stood another, smaller bottle. Inside this one, there was a dark substance, which resembled molasses in consistence, but was in fact the extract from poppy seeds. He had partly swapped the syrup of hellebore in the Draught of Peace with it. Ironically, **Poppy** Pomfrey would have slit his throat with a lancet if she was aware of that experiment. That, even given his current official allegiance, would have been most uncharacteristic for her.

“No more of you. Most certainly no more of you. Never again.” he muttered in the vials’ direction. Then, he put them both into a small cabinet over his head, locking them away with a spell.

The more the draught washed away from his veins (considering he had ingested a massive amount of honey water in the form of the Sobering Potion, that process was slower than he had expected), the more Severus felt the self-directed ire build in him. He had drugged himself a simpleton, in the morning, and what followed was a painful proof of that.

First and worst of his intoxicated decisions, was the one to counteract the effect coffee had on him with some more of the Draught. He had barely ever used the altered recipe on himself before, which showed in his lack of knowledge about its interactions. Why then did he act like a novice? Because it did not seem consequential then. Besides, he threw the werewolf into some sort of a seizure. While Lupin scuttled away, he came to a conclusion, quite the peculiar one – that he shouldn’t have said those words. This was proof the potion was still working, but Severus hadn’t noted that at the time. Therefore, he reasoned he should have been calmer.

He took the second portion before going to the office. Seemingly, there were no detrimental effects. Perhaps he was slightly slower in his reactions. Perhaps an ink spill on an important document did not push him into a fit of rage as it usually would. Still, apart from that – his observations for the signs of overdose yielded no results. At least until he had to descend to the lower floors of the castle and interact with people.

Then, he landed in enemy’s territory (amongst ‘his subordinate Eaters’ and, even more vicious towards him personally, former Hogwarts staff) so damn serene, he would probably never recognise himself if he saw it. It was unlikely any of them could have not noticed. Eating meals together between working on the reconstruction was now customary, thus, Severus’ omitting one attracted quite the attention.

When he excused himself to his office before dinner, he saw Avery, that treacherous viper who knew a lot about his experimenting with potions years ago, leering at him. Yet, he didn’t feel angry at him back then. He had been in the habit of eating his food alone before as well, so it was probably the ‘excused’ part that provoked it. Indeed, he did not just snappily announce it, but almost apologised for leaving.

Upstairs, Severus wanted to help himself to another coffee and to go check on Teddy. Then, however, he reminded himself of the situation with the werewolf and simply sat in his office, paging through documents for the duration of the meal.

Later, after he declared the job done with the tunnels to the Hufflepuff Common and returned to the Chambers, the drug still hadn’t worn off. The opposite, actually – it merely switched to another phase. That was how Severus found himself in a confined space with Lupin, who he was, apparently, consoling. This way, he coped a day of irrational behaviours with compassion for werewolves. Worst of all, talking to Lupin was not unbearable, which he had to admit even looking back now.

He now blamed it all on the drug. Yet, the truth was he took the Draught in the first place because he was far too preoccupied (by his own standards) about the whole moving. The artificial help in controlling his thoughts was supposed to save him from that unpleasant sensation.

_Blasted having to worry that someone will die._

Severus wasn’t used to it and was finding the experience abominable. It was mainly Teddy’s fault, from his perspective. Somehow, it only took around two months for his mind to become absolutely frozen at the mere notion that something could happen to the child. Considering the chronology, it was a paradox how Lupin was the unwelcome adjunct to Teddy. Still, even he was not unwelcome enough for Severus to wish him ill (as much as he was astounded by himself on that).

“I knew you had it in you. The kindness I have in mind, Severus.” Albus’ voice, with the studied politeness covering the snide, now again derailed the wobbly train of his thoughts.

 _Joke’s on you, you old fool. You spent years indirectly trying to make me less hateful towards Potter, when it seems that all you should have done was making me take care of him for a few weeks as a baby_ – Severus retorted in his mind, while moving to the cauldron. The liquid inside was already glistening with silver sparks.

 _From what I gathered about Petunia’s mothering tactics from the brat’s mind, he could’ve been kept in a crypt next to my former office and would have been fine._ – Severus added, squashing two belladonna berries over the cauldron. In all his moronic sincerity, he thankfully lied to Lupin that he wasn’t using anything lethal tonight. This amount of the Deadly Nightshade was hardly deadly for a grown man anyways. The juice dripped slowly into the mixture and it began changing colour again – now to a faint azure hue. He reached for a ladle again and stirred four times anti-clockwise.

The fumes were acrid, but it was nothing compared to both the other parts of the process, so he had no use for a bubble charm over his head for today. Besides, any stimulus that could get him back into the land of the fully conscious was rather welcome.

The werewolf would have to begin taking his potions this week and Severus had to deliver them on time. He hadn’t had the time to finish it earlier, being at six and sevens with the rebuilding, admissions of new students, crossing out of the muggleborn, escaped or dead ones, and trying to pacify the staff and recruit new members of it.

Luckily, there was only one phase of brewing left. He could easily take care of it on Monday morning, once he would have had some sleep.

Now, he put down the fire under the cauldron to let it cool down a little and started cleaning the working space. _‘I fear myself more than other people fear me’_ – he recalled a part of the inebriated talk from earlier while scourgifying the knives. What a cliché was that! _In Salazar’s name, the idiocies that this man says._ Although, the part of their conversation on the wolf-topic, even though he knew he’d probably come to deeply regret it (since Lupin could now infer that Severus had a higher tolerance for emotional outpours than he really did) was... _informative_ , he had to admit.

Once Severus had dried the knives and the cutting board, he put them back into their appropriate cabinets. Next, he put on a glove and reached for the slices. They were thin, almost transparent. He carefully placed them in the blue contents of the cauldron, which he had already taken of the burner. The liquid bespattered his gloved hand while he lay the roots inside. He had to leave it for two hours to sit; therefore, he had the time to go to Spinner’s.

Leaving the laboratory, he cast a freshening charm on himself. The time to actually get the fumes out of his robes, skin and hair would come later – he was not planning to linger anywhere around the child or other living things anyways.

On his way out, he shot a glance at the clock. It was 2:35, so he had dealt with it a little faster than he had predicted. His ability to estimate hadn’t been affected that much by the drug after all. Passing the door to the library, he noted with surprise that it remained ajar. The inside was lit, so Lupin was probably still in there. From Severus’ previous observations the man was usually swaying on his feet around midnight (quite ironically for a creature of the night), even without the alcohol to add to it, so this was a rather unusual occurrence.

 _That’s none of my business, though._ It indeed was not, but curiosity got the best of him and he peeked inside. Lupin was sleeping in the armchair and with a half-emptied glass before him. Severus entered quietly. Then, he bent down to the floor, where the bottles stood and examined the one, which had been barely touched by the time he left. It was a whole lot lighter now. _My fault for leaving it here, I suppose. And a lesson not to share my things, ‘less I want to finally convince Cissa that I am an alcoholic – going through them at now double the pace._ Severus put it back, this time onto the table.

There was a greater issue with this, however – since Severus was leaving, Teddy would be all alone. Though perhaps a break from his caretakers would do him good, considering that one of those was seven sheets to the wind, while the other was still sedated on the opium coursing in his veins.

“HOW CAN YOU BE THIS IRRESPONSIBLE?! You are grown men, both of you. It’s high time you started acting like it!” Severus heard the shrieks in his head.

“Yes, thank you Minerva, you can shut up now—” he mumbled in response. A grave mistake, as it turned out.

Having heard the whisper, Lupin muttered something and stretched in a dream. His hand grazed Severus’ arm. Snape jumped in place, knocking over the (thankfully) empty wine bottle, which fell down with a clash. Somehow, it did not break, just rolled over with piercingly loud clinking echoing in the quiet of the night.

Lupin jolted upright in his seat, belatedly on cue. He looked around confused and initially scared, based on his wide-eyed expression.

“I knocked over a bottle.” Severus explained to him. “Now if you’re already up, leave my library, will you? And go to sleep, Lupin.” he ordered.

Gaping at him with his big, caramel eyes (and likely asking himself why he was in Snape’s library in the first place), Lupin did as he was told. Even sober he obeyed direct commands usually without questioning them; all in that damned naivety of his, which Severus was unable to fathom. He staggered to his feet, holding onto the armchair. With unexpected steadiness, he walked out of the library and further, to the bedroom.

Severus followed him with his eyes. Then, having heard the thud of him falling (hopefully onto the bed, but he was not willing to go and check), he went to wake up Frankie. Someone needed to be on guard for the kid or else his hallucinated Minerva would tear him to shreds, insubstantial or not.

Frankie wouldn’t dare wince when Severus shook her out of sleep. She did, however, look like she wanted to ‘have a talk’ with ‘sir Remus’ who had, allegedly, told her he’d be honoured to take care of the child for the night. Now, therefore, she was confirmed in being right not to trust his promises. _Took Lupin a day to get on her bad side. Truly, a man with a gift. Thankfully, that is not my problem._

Lupin had meant well, clearly. But then, trying to help out a house elf in her duties was never a great idea. _Being too nice has its unpleasant consequences as well –_ Severus noted with triumph. The, now dying out, voices in his head didn’t even dare to argue.

With one last order that she could continue sleeping, just not outside the sound-proof wall of the chambers (which Frankie seemed to have found very offensive), Severus left for Spinner’s.

It was well past five when he was done cutting the soaked root slices and taking a shower. Next, he returned to taking out everything he had brought. He had decided to skip sleep completely before, but when he faltered over the threshold of the library, he decided an hour or two of it couldn’t hurt him. Trying to unpack his additional laboratory equipment (or even the books, considering that he would have to use the ladder) didn’t seem like a wise idea. A fourth drug, even if it were to be just an Invigoration Draught, was out of question. His body was better spared that, considering that he wasn’t too keen on landing himself in the Hospital Wing.

He went to the bathroom again. In his nightshirt and barefoot, he went back to the library to take _“The Idiot” for the Idiot,_ out of the small, enchanted box he brought everything from Spinner’s in _._ Everything of importance, at least (though, of course, that included the teddy bears for Teddy). Next, he returned to the bedroom.

Lupin sadly, had indeed opted for the bed, though in his state he might have forgotten about there being another variant at all. However, the silver lining was that he had chosen the side next to the window. He, also thankfully, but even more – luckily for himself, because Severus wouldn’t hesitate to spell him silent – wasn’t snoring, despite his inebriation.

Severus had been prepared to have problems falling into slumber for at least a few nights. A werewolf asleep and twenty feet away, was still a living creature, a werewolf, and far too close for his liking. Therefore, he set the alarm to the latest hour that he could – half past nine, hoping that on a Sunday nobody would have the ingenious idea of coming to bother the Headmaster any earlier than ten o’clock.

First, he left Lupin the promised book (even the subdued version of himself did know how to throw a long-winded jab). Then, he tiptoed back around the bed, checking up on Teddy on his way. The kid was lying peacefully underneath his snake-blanket. With his hand over it, he was strangling the fluffy duck with all his might, smiling _a Lupin’s smile._ Severus smiled back, though the child couldn’t see it, and returned to the right side of the bed.

He lied down somewhat apprehensively.

If it didn’t work, he would go to sleep to the transformation-room himself, because now he felt too exhausted to refuse himself this nap-length substitute for sleep. Everything he had drunk today was wearing off and uncomfortably so.

But no, the charm did work – the werewolf was very far away. Severus wouldn’t be able to reach him with his arm stretched. The Mark wasn’t stinging on it at all. The duvets were two, of course. The coverlet, when on, was hiding that fact well. As for the memory, it would be even easier to erase Lupin’s presence that way. No duvet, no werewolf underneath it.

The breathing of now two other _people?_ in the room (Frankie was still on guard in the kitchen, but there were two Lupins in close proximity to himself, only one unquestionably human) turned out to be more calming than terrifying. To Severus’ earnest astonishment, he fell asleep minutes after he had lied down.

\---

Sober, Severus was confident nothing good could have come from him fraternising with the werewolf. It was one thing sharing a living space, even this damn closely and completely another to share sincere thoughts of any kind, yet alone ones created ‘under the influence’. Not to mention offering to listen to Lupin’s laments on the werewolves’ fate. Especially when he had already shown far too much concern on his side. His reasons for keeping Lupin away from the accounts of that damned massacre going on did fall close to the control-issues he had, uninvited, diagnosed Severus with. Still, the action itself could be misinterpreted. But the deed was done, sadly, and now he could do nothing about it.

Lupin, however, escaped his predictions.

Because Lupin, suddenly, stopped asking questions. He just decided to shut it, overnight, and there was no more probing – no more “Have you tried to contact the resistance, Severus?”, “Could you tell me about (insert whatever Lupin was currently anxious about)?”. Not even a “When will be the next time you’ll be taking Teddy to the Malfoys, Severus?”, which he had very much expected after their conversation over wine.

It first manifested about the issue with the wand. Severus almost forgot about it – his mind rather sluggish due to busyness combined with lack of sleep. Lupin, it seemed, did the same. He did not ask about it once, even though he struggled with the current wand against the rings of the stove, which should have reminded him about that problem.

In the end it was Severus, peeved that he had to do that on his own accord, who told Lupin late in the evening, “You wanted a wand, if I recall correctly.” 

Lupin reacted to that with apathy. On that day he was particularly dull and fragile, definitely more so than Snape was. “Yes, I still do, Severus. I was afraid you’ve forgotten—” he said, almost with effort.

“Then to the office, if you may.” Severus invited, going himself first, to lock the entrance from the outside.

There, Lupin stood in front of the drawer he opened for him, transfixed by the amount of the wands (at least two dozen of them). Still, he was silent. Therefore, Severus left him to choose without uttering his prepared descriptions of how he found them and why he’d take a dead master’s wand in the first place.

Lupin returned from the office with a wand. Based on his immediate display of turning the lights off without them flickering, it seemed to listen to him. He wasn’t slight-smiling, most likely due to some sort of good-natured conviction that things stolen from dead people should not invoke any sort of joy. Yet, he was clearly pleased with the switch. He had in no way commented on the changes in the Headmaster’s Office. He did, however, start talking about the choosing, as if to himself. The wand was cypress, so the same wood as Remus’ last one, but a tad longer than it (this information was given, unasked for, Severus simply had knack for remembering details). It trembled upwards when the drawer opened. However, another one throbbed as well and that was the one Lupin had tried out first. He also was, according to himself, very glad to get rid of the larch one.

Since they were in the same room, Severus gave his acknowledgement just with nods. Lupin sounded satisfied without a discussant. Next, he wondered out loud who would take the place of Ollivader “when it all is back to normal”. Here Severus did put in his pennyworth worth. Garian, he told Lupin, was waiting for a political change before restoring his father’s business – the shop stood forlorn. For now, Hogwarts’ students were forced to acquire their wands at Gregorovitch’s or abroad. He recounted that to him and still, no direct questions were asked.

Severus was very pleased with that state of things. For a day.

On the next one, when Lupin no longer had the excuse of a terrible hangover to justify his lack of being annoying, Severus found himself expecting (in vain) to have to palm him off. Then, when he had nothing to do so about – he started feeling somewhat ill at ease.

In the following weeks they kept running into each other rather frequently on the limited, though greater than at Spinner’s, space of the Chambers. Thus, there were many occasions for him to notice the change in Lupin’s behaviour. Soon Severus was catching himself saying, unprompted, things that before Lupin would have to struggle to get out of him. That, as he now realised, had been sort of amusing from his perspective.

For example, when his crow returned in July, after an almost month long absence and rather malnourished (the damned bird refused to hunt for himself), Severus shared that information with Lupin when he met him in the kitchen. Simply because Lupin kept talking about Teddy’s love for birds and it somehow escalated to Severus admitting that he now owned one.

“You’ve got a bird now?” Lupin marvelled, the force of interrogative habits getting the best of him for a moment. “I mean, you’ve never had a familiar, neither as a student, nor when we were colleagues…”

“Indeed, I only had one animal in my life, not a familiar and not a bird. Now I know why – because they are incredibly stupid, that’s why.” Severus complained.

Lupin didn’t ask what animal that had been or how Ajax was displaying his stupidity. Instead, he suggested, “Stupid or no, you could show it to Teddy. He’d be delighted, I’m sure.”

“Not now. Ajax needs to get back into shape first.”

“Okay, then.” Lupin eyed him from above his teacup with Teddy steadily on his lap, held with the other hand. The child tried to grab the cup and Lupin had to get it out of his reach, stretching his arm upwards out of the sudden.

Already used to the havoc the child caused ( _especially when with his dad_ ), Severus continued to eat his toast while watching that performance. Teddy, however, was very good at multitasking. He was trying to grab his dad’s cup with one hand and a moment later – Severus’ plate with the other, so he had to snatch it away and closer to himself.

Lupin, _instead of properly watching the kid_ , (though Severus had to admit that he was instinctively good at that thing, even when he wasn’t paying attention) kept looking at him, as if awaiting an answer.

“He was supposed to deliver a letter to Minerva—“ Severus finally broke and told him, in between the bites. Lupin’s brows raised even more questioningly, but he said nothing. “—but, judging by the state of him – I’d say they are on the other side of the Pacific—” Severus amended once he had swallowed.

“Oh.” Lupin said, with mild surprise in his tone. “So you have been contacting them, after all.”

“It is a rather one-sided conversation so far.”

“Well, I don’t suppose you expect them to send you their location and a list of names, Severus. Everyone would be rather wary, considering—“ he waved his hand vaguely, the cup still in it. Basing on the lack of tea droplets on the floor – it was empty. “—all this. I’m guessing you’ve only tried once. Maybe monthly or so would work?” Lupin suggested obligingly.

Slightly affronted, Severus spat out, “I have better things to do than beseeching Minerva’s forgiveness for something I had no choice about. Thank you very much.”

Once again – no: “Didn’t you, really?”, not even a “Are you sure it’s safe to send the bird?” He was, he bought the creature solely for this purpose and had selected it with care. It was Lupin’s perhaps 3rd week of not being irritating, so longer than he had the chance to be bothersome in this aspect in the first place. Yet, Severus still expected the questions to swarm him like hive of bees, buzzing particularly huskily.

“But I don’t—” Lupin remarked simply, putting his cup down.

“And what would **you** be writing, Lupin?” Severus asked, pouring as much incredulous sarcasm into his voice as he could.

Lupin, apparently, took that as a welcome. He smiled softly, as if Severus had already agreed to his idea. “Anything and everything. I take I couldn’t just tell I’m alive and well, because that would be dangerous if the letter got lost. But I could tell them how the school is doing, from what you say and from what I find out through Frankie and such. I’d try to be concise—“ he amended, probably responding to Severus’ grimace. “—Either way, if somehow your letter gets intercepted, officially you were just continuing your double-agent thing and trying to get to them.” Lupin paused to stop Teddy from playing with his beard (which he now wore longer than he used to before the war), because that was interrupting him speaking. “Besides, you rarely tell me things that matter anyways—“ he added, though benignly, not in reproof, “—So I’m guessing that’s a safe thing for me to do.”

There was the issue of hand-writing here that Lupin’s plan did not cover. However, Severus was rather sure he had a forgery quill in his possession somewhere. He had confiscated quite a few of those in his days as a Head of House. The Slytherins were often convinced it was easier to fake their permission to go to Hogsmeade than ask their parents for it, if they had gotten in trouble before. That was rarely an unwarranted belief. They also almost always had the money for such paraphernalia. However, they had the misfortune of Severus (who in his days as a student practiced doing the exact same thing) being wary of such tactics.

The rest of Lupin’s idea Severus could approve of, with the adjustment of him becoming their censor (to ensure they were properly secretive). The prospective excuse could alternatively be his proposition or “someone had been using a forgery quill to imitate my handwriting, very obviously”. Anyway, it was unlikely that the Headmaster’s private post would be treated with any suspicion and the bird, as a crow, was right up front better disguised than an owl. Still, naturally, Ajax would not be departing at regular intervals and other precautions would have to be taken.

It would be good for Lupin to have something to do. Although he had become more apt at hiding it, he was still noticeably in grieving, thus needed as many distractions as he could get. Severus, **of course** , only cared because altering the Wolfsbane recipe for his changing physical state was tedious (or at least he was convinced that was the case).

Therefore – Severus agreed then, leaving himself in shock about the whole matter.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teddy was starting to get disorientated with the amount of Houses he had lived in. The current one was in the big castle of Hogh-qortz. He heard Hawk say something like “This will be your home for Circe knows how long, little brat.” He didn’t quite understand what that meant, because the word ‘Circe’, which was new, distracted him. However, he remembered the name of the new house – Home.

One day, Hawk took him to the usual place in Hogh-qortz, but instead of leaving him underneath the golden blanket and sitting down, he walked towards a tall thing with colourful rectangular shapes in it. He touched one of them and the tall thing then swept away. At first, Teddy was very confused. There was no door – and then there was one. He opened his mouth in awe. Then, Hawk pushed the door and they went inside.

There was so much light in that house – much more than in the room they had just left – that Teddy had to half-close his eyes. There was also a Someone waiting for them inside. Teddy knew this Someone. He had recently learned to distinguish them by the colour of their eyes, though that didn’t always work. This Someone took him into their embrace and the Hawk disappeared.

He returned in a while and Someone handed Teddy to him. Hawk rocked him in his arms then, humming something soothingly, probably because Teddy suddenly stopped looking excited. He had started to worry. After all, it seemed like this was a new House and they did not take Dad, who, without them, as Teddy knew, would be very sad. Teddy really wanted Dad to come with them and he wondered how to communicate that, so he started crying.

Hawk reached out for a bottle for him, from a closet, which was as cold as the glistening one with the flickering light that stood in the Spinner’s House. This one, disappointingly, didn’t have a lamp. That wasn’t exactly what Teddy had wanted to achieve, but it was good enough for now too, because he was already hungry from absorbing the new scents and sights around him. But before Teddy was even finished eating (he pushed the bottle away halfway through, because he wanted Hawk to lull him again), Dad’s smell appeared in the room.

Teddy didn’t need any more pacifying.

If there was Hawk and Dad in the same place, then in his opinion there was no need to fret. Since there was also a Someone, a lot of sunlight, and, as he discovered later with Dad, a box with fluffy toys and blocks and a shape-changing ball, and now two magic sticks (Dad had one too!), Teddy was definitely satisfied with the new house.

Soon, Teddy found out Dad was now sleeping in the same room as him and that crying in the night had the power of summoning either Dad or Hawk, by turns. In the morning, it was usually Hawk who would give Teddy a bottle. Meanwhile he would show him ‘the sun’ raising in the huge light-filled square in the ‘eating-room’. Then, there was breakfast with Dad and Someone. Occasionally Hawk joined in. Then, Teddy would try to snatch the interestingly shaped black thing from him, though he, similarly to Dad, always drew it up into the air away from him. Unlike Dad’s, his voice was always harsh then, and he would say, “No Edward, don’t touch the cup. The contents are boiling hot.”

Next there would come playing time, for hours and hours (though Teddy still took some breaks for sleeping during the day). He discovered that he had a chest with a duck drawn on it and that it moved when he tried to touch it. It didn’t quack, though. However, Teddy now had a whole collection of fluffy birds that made sounds – his duck, but also a stork, and a crow.

The stork was as soft as all the other toys, but its beak was harder and it made a clacking sound when Teddy played with it. The crow cawed and so did Teddy when he introduced his new toys to the duck, the lion and the teddy bears. The lion roared, but the teddy bears were very silent, so Teddy had to speak for them. Dad called it ‘babbling’. Personally, Teddy didn’t see much difference between him and Dad talking, but it seemed that he was less understandable to everyone. He had no idea why that was so.

Hawk wasn’t spending as much time with Teddy as he used to, anymore. However, Teddy didn’t mind that too much, since Dad and Someone were almost always with him. Besides, Hawk still was somewhere there all the time (which was good, because he could keep the bad people away). On top of that, Dad, unlike Hawk, had a habit of leaving his magic stick around, so Teddy had tried to use it a good couple of times. Just as if he was babbling to it – it didn’t listen. Teddy stared at Dad, hoping that it would work like the blocks thing with the Dragon Boy (here he had other blocks, that he moved with his hands, not eyes). Sadly, it didn’t.

The stick was an amazing toy even without its magic powers. Dad, whenever he was pulling it out of his hold with, “That’s not something to play with, Teddy—” didn’t sound like he agreed.

The best thing, however, was the real bird.

It was a crow – all black and shiny; Hawk brought him into the eating-room one day. He then opened its little house made of golden sticks and said, to Teddy – “This is Ajax.” Then he spoke to the bird (a normal thing, Teddy knew from his toys that all birds could speak to each other) – “This is Teddy.”

After Hawk had introduced them, he told them both ‘to behave’. Teddy didn’t have the time to preoccupy himself with the meaning of that, because he was already attempting to hug the crow. Aja was flying away, then returning and jumping mere inches from Teddy only to rise into the air again when he crawled to him.

Dad was speaking in the distance, around the table, in a worried tone. Hawk responded with “The bird is notoriously unskilled in hurting anything, including worms, let alone little humans. Besides, Lupin, you have suggested this, so if the kid loses an eye it will be all your fault.” That made Dad retort in a taunting tone and therefore sound less stressed, so Teddy could, unconcerned, continue in his efforts to embrace the bird.

He was on the edge of his carpet and reaching out, Someone crouching behind him. Suddenly, Teddy realised that he had a beak. He blinked a few times, because that was something for dreams and to wake up fully one had to do that, but it didn’t work. He tilted his head to better see, but no, still a beak – one very similar to Aja’s.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed the change.

“How is Little One looking like a bird?!” Someone called out to Hawk and Dad, with outrage, as far as Teddy could tell.

“Oh hell—“ Hawk muttered and Teddy saw Dad sending him ‘a look’. Hawk exhaled loudly and hid his face in his hands, though Teddy had a feeling he was still observing him through his splayed fingers.

Only Dad seemed to have retained his composure, though he too had gasped at first. “Well, that was only a matter of time—“ he said in an amused tone. Then he explained to Someone, “—See, Frankie, Teddy is a Metamorphagus. He can change shape at will. I haven’t expected animal-like morphing soon, though. His hair he has been changing a lot, you must have noticed, eyes too, but a barely human-looking nose-beak... Well that’s something, isn’t it, Teddy?” Dad walked over to him from the counter, smiling.

Someone was still surprised, but she nodded as if she understood, her beak almost touching her chest meanwhile. Teddy, on the other hand, wondered what a ‘memamofagis’ was, though not for long – he had the phenomena of his new beak to investigate.

Dad sat down next to Teddy on the carpet. He felt his presence more than he saw it, very preoccupied with his new beak – currently touching it with his hands. It was long and similar to the stork’s one, though from what Teddy could have observed earlier – near-black instead of red. Only after he had thoroughly inspected it, Teddy looked around.

On his left, he noticed Aja. The crow was no longer fluttering upwards into the air when he looked in his direction; it was walking around him curiously. It seemed that the bird was most shocked of them all. His black eyes bore into Teddy and head kept tilting from side to side, like his own did a moment ago, in puzzlement. Using this occasion, Teddy crawled towards Aja. Still – the bird didn’t take off into the air. Therefore, Teddy grasped him in one quick, even if quite clumsy, movement and hugged him.

“I see you’ve got yourself a crow too, Lupin.” Hawk stated, uncovering his face.

“Sure. Though I doubt this one can deliver mail—“ Dad responded, ruffling Teddy’s hair. Teddy didn’t see if he was smiling, because he was sitting behind him (and Teddy was mostly focused on the bird anyways), but he heard that in his tone.

Hawk momentarily grinned in their direction and Teddy started laughing. That almost shooed Aja away, but he had already grasped him tightly and wasn’t going to let him leave.

The crow in his arms continued to squirm to get out. When he failed to do so, he finally resigned himself to Teddy’s affection, putting his beak on his neck. It reminded Teddy of Hawk a little – he too was all black and had recoiled at first when Teddy’s little fingers curled around his long stick-like ones, back at the Big House, but he then never did that again.

Meanwhile Hawk himself had stood up and approached them too, leaning down and asking, “Have you squeezed life out of Ajax yet, Teddy?” As if reacting to those words, Aja lifted his head from Teddy’s arm.

“He hasn’t. I’m watching them, you know—“ Dad answered him for Teddy, with a little bit of slight in his voice. 

“I know. That is exactly why I expect Ajax to be strangled.”

Dad, offended, huffed loudly at that and Teddy imitated the sound, making him snort with soft laughter.

Hawk, meanwhile, had walked away from the blanket and was bustling by the kitchen counter. When he was done with that, having put away the black object he never let Teddy touch, he strode up next to them once again. “Now Edward, please stop assaulting my crow.”

Teddy was currently telling Aja that he liked him very much, though the crow didn’t look like he was understanding this.

Dad, who still was sitting just next to them, with his warm hand on Teddy’s back, jumped to his defence again, though his voice wasn’t very serious. “He’s not assaulting your crow, he’s **crowing.** ”

On that, Hawk hid his face behind his stick-like fingers again. Teddy knew that was because Hawk was aware he looked odd when he smiled (that was definitely why he always did his best not to show it to Dad whenever he did). Teddy wondered why Hawk was so shy about that. In that moment of inattention, the crow got out of his embrace and Teddy stopped wondering – trying again to follow Aja, but being lifted up into the air by Dad instead.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus had a lot of time to think, alone in the Headmaster’s Chambers of Hogwarts. Too much of it, in fact, even with the disrupting from Frankie and the constant distraction of Teddy.

By occurrence and most definitely not by choice, Remus shared a living space (very closely) with a man he knew to be capable of murder, treason and casting various dark spells that Voldemort himself wouldn’t have been embarrassed to use. His son was legally under the guardianship of that man.

The man had showed nothing but spitefulness to him and the closest people in his life, despite how little reason they had been giving him to do so. If Remus were to speak for his own adult self, he could say he had not. Now, apparently, Severus had suffered a sudden change of heart in that matter. Both his vitriol directed at Remus and the one intended for others from the past, whenever they came up around the letters, seemed to have simmered down a bit.

Remus wished he could ask Dumbledore about the one thing that pestered him most about the man – Snape’s loyalty. Finally, one day, he did just that.

He knew that Dumbledore’s portrait had been returned to the office. Severus was fed up with quarrelling with “that pink toad” to the point where he was not only name-calling Umbridge in a childish manner, but then also shared the good news with Remus. Having been reminded about that issue by Severus’ sudden repeated confession, when the opportunity arose (Severus was in the laboratory), Remus sneaked into the office.

The portrait appeared to be sleeping when he entered. However, the second Remus addressed it, Dumbledore opened his eyes.

He did not exactly receive the account he had hoped for. To “Had you ordered Severus to kill you, professor?”, the depiction nodded sleepily.

That one little nod changed a lot – or everything even. Snape remained himself in terms of character and a cog in a horrible wheel, of course, but one with sound morals and therefore intentions (hopefully, even still). Because of that, Remus once again grew accustomed to Severus’ acting like a decent human being, or at least his, prickly and reticent, version of it.

Severus, meanwhile, did change his ways only so slightly, but nevertheless. He was honouring Remus’ request by informing him about important things with a few days advance. Two, in the case of the latest excursion to Malfoy Manor. They also finally talked about ‘how long’, though their conclusions were sorely inconsequential. They fell close to “Circe only knows”. About many other matters, however, Remus still knew nothing. On the other hand, sometimes he wasn’t so sure he wanted to, unable to act on them either way.

On the issue of Teddy, he had practically been given a free rein. However, Snape made an actual, continuous effort to take care about the child as well. The living space itself was comfortable, usually empty and at Remus’ full disposal.

He had little to complain about.

Nevertheless, Remus couldn’t leave or even go outside and he didn’t know for how long this state would last. Horrible times had set in and he could do nothing about it. On top of all that – he officially didn’t exist. Not even for the resistance.

All of this invoke a whole lot of feelings in Remus and almost all of them were conflicting.

He felt a gaping void where his naive prospects for the future had been, as if he’d had a tunnel dug through his very soul. He still clung to things he used to believe in, though ‘used to’ was a very good word for them. Now it was more the force of habit than true conviction.

He felt terror, about what was going on outside to muggleborns and to ‘his kind’. He felt dread about his and Teddy’s future and about what could happen to the two ( _or more precisely – three_ ) of them, should anyone discover Severus was hiding him.

He felt gratitude, an overwhelming and very uncomfortable sort of it, for not only being alive (even though that felt like a burden, sometimes), but for being well – at least as well as it was currently acquirable – and for not being separated from Teddy.

He felt guilty, for having survived. For it being him, and not Tonks, who was seeing Teddy’s smiles, his clumsy attempts at standing up and the way her abilities displayed in him; who was hearing his chortling and his mumbled first syllables.

He felt apathy, complete disinterest in what was (or wasn’t) to come. Although most of the time he fought it stubbornly, every now and then it overpowered him and he’d spend half the day on the bed, merely staring at the canopy, musing in a doleful manner.

He felt boredom. He desperately tried to fill his days with activities, which he then failed to carry out to the end (with the sole exception of the ones involving Teddy). He had been for example practicing charms, amongst which – the Patronus one, which he had lost the ability to successfully cast. However, he wasn’t planning to give up, because he still wanted to believe that could change, one day.

He felt continuous irritation, like a sore throat, at the fact that he was locked in. It spread to whole lot of other, meagre things, like Severus’ continuous re-hanging the towel by the sink to the left of it.

He felt a crushing, pervasive hopelessness. Whenever he let his mind fall into the quicksand of thoughts about what he had lost with the war, it was accentuated by the piercing hollowness in his mind and chest.

He felt joy, fleeting and often overshadowed by other emotions, but nevertheless powerful. It was coming from Teddy’s laugh and from him making faces, from Ajax pecking his hand, and from Frankie’s admonishing. Occasionally, even from the taunting whenever he run into Severus in one of the rooms.

He felt exasperation at how out of all people this one was helping him. At times, Severus was unbearable to be around. However, Remus’ anxious predictions on how they’d be likely to go for each other’s throats had been wrong.

He felt lucky for having survived, for having Teddy around, for Severus being unexpectedly helpful and clearly making an effort not to be horrible. Sometimes – for how it was Severus out of all people, because that meant things like Wolfsbane, or the remission of the danger ( _because who would suspect someone this high up of breaking the law in such a way?_ ).

He felt a dull sense of unfairness at his own situation, but it was accompanied with the conviction that as a werewolf he deserved it. Because Remus believed what he didn’t remember having stated out loud – that even if Voldemort hadn’t won, in terms of legislation and even the sense of abandonment, it could have been the same.

And yet for the most part, he didn’t feel unsafe.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once the most important restorations had been finished, the issue of the Forest’s werewolves had to be resolved. The wolves, as if having sniffed out the danger, ostensibly – completely disappeared. Therefore, there was just a magical barrier put in place around the Forest – a collective effort of most of the members of the staff. After that, they were left waiting. Severus sincerely hoped the whole matter would have been determined by the time the students arrived. However, as September approached and Yaxley’s enforcement division designated for werewolves-issues still “hadn’t gotten round to it”, that hope began to wither rapidly.

Meanwhile, the preparations for the school year had begun. Severus had to ‘cleanse the school’ of any completely non-magical name. First, he had to fight a battle, both against the Ministry and against Lucius privately. His outrageous proposition was for the muggleborns to be ‘only’ stripped of all their magical knowledge. Severus thought it an option equally horrible to Azkaban. He had only spent a month of his life in the place, but that made him well-versed enough to pass such judgement. This sincere conviction was perhaps what let him win that argument.

This year, with his Lord’s guidelines more lax than ever, Severus had promised himself to keep a true discipline amongst ‘his’ Eaters, so that the students would be a little bit safer from their horrible inclinations.

At the same time, he recognised he had to be brutal both for the sake of ‘his’ Eaters and towards them – to establish his position over them while he could. He was almost joyful at the possibility of the latter. However, he also knew that switching from the cruel Headmaster and back was complex and potentially dangerous. Yet, in the current situation, he had to admit it was easier. Merely crossing the threshold to the chambers, turned him into a guardian of Teddy.

It was hard to the same person to a chortling child that he was to a band of bored killers.

The house elf and Lupin, who both were better company than he had expected (once Lupin had seen the error of his nosy ways, at least), added to that effect as well.

Lupin was now always on the Wolfsbane during his transformations. A calm, according to his account – almost soundless, werewolf, he was away from the child in his room. Then, he would wake up with the characteristic bags under his eyes and a rapacious hunger for sweets. To the last, Severus actually did cater through Frankie, when she had asked him whether she could buy some chocolate for ‘sir Remus’.

Both the first transformation and the following ones went smoothly. Still, Severus was uneasy when one was approaching, which did not exactly mix well with Lupin’s own prickliness then. However, the picture of the exhausted man who, after the Full Moon, drank tea in Severus’ kitchen, dipping huge blocks of chocolate from Honeydukes in his cup, assisted him in differentiating between Lupin and the werewolves he was still on the lookout for.

Despite what Lupin had stated about wanting to know the ugly truth, Severus usually made a point of not sharing the cruelest of the things Corban told him. It wasn’t pity, as much as it was Severus’ own fear. Severus was afraid he would fail to keep the frail division between ‘the werewolf’ and ‘all the other beasts’ intact in his head. He wanted to keep his promise to himself that he wouldn’t act towards this ‘Marauder’ ( _was that how those dunderheads called themselves?_ ), like he did towards the last one he was forced to live around. This one was not a traitor and a scum. His worst offences were being aggravatingly placid most of the time and being a werewolf.

However, not passing on what he heard soon got harder, because they were having “actual conversations” with Lupin.

The excuse for said conversations ever taking place were the letters to Minerva. Lupin insisted that those necessitated him having a grasp on what was going on. To Severus that seemed like an excuse to make him talk, though he _might_ had been growing to actually like them. Also because of the letters, Lupin joined the ranks of portrayed Phineas and Armando in criticising Severus’ “barely legible scribble”.

“The cursive is nice, of course. It’s just that it’s a little too small for me to re-read, most of the times. And I don’t want it to seem like you make spelling errors or something—” as Lupin phrased it.

Severus shrugged dismissively at that concern. “She thinks me a murderer, Lupin, there’s not much room for deterioration there.”

He was a murderer. A mass murder, in fact, if his deeds from the first war were counted. But it was the details there that he had a problem with. Severus paid a lot of attention to those over the course of his life and it pained him when others didn’t. The Gryffindors, for the most part, did not. When details weren’t meticulously accounted for – Severus had murdered the one man that ever showed any interest in his well-being, in cold blood and to gain power. When they were, however, he was some sort of an order-following martyr. From his perspective that was hardly better, but McGonagall and the others would have likely thought it so.

Severus had already (though angrily and with resentment towards the fact that he had to), recounted to Lupin how he ended up killing the Headmaster. He deserved to hear that; or at least the portrayed Albus thought so. The topic came up for the second time, when Severus was complaining about Dolores Umbridge (an oddly uniting topic) and her obstinacy on this, while giving Lupin a goblet of Wolfsbane.

“I did not murder him, by the way. Not with malice aforethought, at least.” Severus chose the exact moment when Lupin was wincing with disgust at the taste of the potion to speak, so that he wouldn’t be able to preoccupy himself with his reaction. The werewolf almost choked on his medicine. “—I was merely following his own orders. Albus was a chess-player, who considered himself a piece like all the others. Sometimes – as he had thought – you have to sacrifice a piece, whichever one you currently need to. For ‘the greater good’, but look what ‘great good’ it had led to.” Severus spat the last sentence as bitterly as if he were the one drinking the acrid-fuming liquid.

Remus, usually so gullible, despite obvious attempts to do so, later neither sounded nor looked entirely convinced. That was understandable.

One of the main reasons why Severus had basically planned to die after fulfilling his role in guarding Hogwarts from the inside, was that his version of the events bordered on a ridiculous tale. Lupin didn’t, however, demand proof. Not that he ever demanded anything, except, maybe, answers every now and then. _So rather – Lupin did not politely ask for proof_.

The absurdity of the truth was also, why Severus was positive that all of the attempts to contact the resistance (a letter had been sent to the Weasleys too, because Lupin insisted) were doomed to failure.

The muggleborn girl, Granger, who had most likely escaped with the Weasleys, was the only one who might have gotten the idea that he wasn’t entirely a traitor. Severus didn’t know whether the brats managed to use the Pensieve in the end, but it was highly possible that they didn’t. However, Granger saw him on the battlefield twice and, in their second confrontation on it, did not try to attack him. Instead, she aided him in saving herself and a Weasley. Nevertheless, even if she had survived and was with the redheaded family, she didn’t manage to convince the others about his allegiance. Ajax returned empty-beaked from his journey in search of the Weasleys in the third week of August.

Minerva had not responded to a single letter either (yet – in Lupin’s belief). His conviction that insistency could change the state of things was so naive and good-natured, that Severus congratulated himself on choosing the right reading for him. The character resemblance with the book got even more striking when, after some time, without a direct cue, Lupin simply came to terms with Severus’ treason and murder of Albus.

Severus wished he could have said the same about himself.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus wasn’t sure what to think about the bed thing.

It didn’t bother him much. He went to sleep before Severus and usually woke up long after him, so it was more like having a ghost of the scent of wine and potions’ ingredients nearby, not a virtual human presence. He also had gotten used to other people in the room with him asleep during the war (oh, the lack of privacy on the rare occasion that he had to sleep at the Shell Cottage or Burrow!).

In a way it was even beneficent. Remus was sure he had overslept at least half of Teddy’s waking up (now rapidly increasing due to the progress of his teething). When he did wake up to him, however, it was easier to fall back into slumber with the steady breathing of two people around him, even though the visions of Bellatrix killing his wife in the hellish emerald gleam had yet to fade away.

Severus, on the other hand, had clearly either lost his marbles or chosen this difficult shrift for himself on purpose.

Just before every Full Moon, Snape was openly terrified of him. He was not fully on his guard Occlumency-wise only when he was around Teddy, so Remus could tell by the scents then. That did little to explain why he would have consciously sentenced himself to such a close proximity to him, because Merlin – Remus could sleep on some kind of a temporarily transfigured mattress on the library floor and he wouldn’t mind. Not that he minded the four-poster, either. The bed kept them miles from each other either way, so the difference between that and sleeping on opposing sides of the room was purely visual.

It irked Remus a lot that Severus would not let him know why or admit it if there was no ‘why’. Again, he was expected to accept his ideas without any justification. However, after the first day at Hogwarts and failing to find out about the one thing he kept asking about, Remus was trying out a new tactic with Snape. It was simple – letting him talk on his own.

That worked surprisingly well. Severus seemed not to tolerate complete silence these days. Thus, if Lupin talked ‘to himself’ for long enough and made a pause, he’d usually have more luck gathering any information than ever before. Not wanting to impair that streak, he bit his tongue and tried to work the answers out on his own.

The secret case of ‘the guests’, which had been mentioned, was just another of the issues that quite plagued him, though not too gallingly so. Finally, in the last week of August, a guest arrived.

Typically – without adding a single detail, Severus told him the day before that he’d have to stay in the transformation room for a few hours. Remus pierced him with a quizzical look, but found out nothing, this time. Frankie was to stay with the child in the office. By now, Remus had complete confidence in her in any situation (ever since the two of them had made up), so he had no worries about that part. Therefore, he complied without arguing.

Alone in the, a tad claustrophobic room, he fought with the still not finished “ _Hindering”._ Nothing from Snape’s library, so far, wasn’t too tedious to read to the last page. Still, his thoughts wandered anxiously, the architectural facet of lack of a visible exit or a real window playing a huge, unhelpful, role in that.

Sadly, he couldn’t hear a thing from the outside. The walls were completely imperturbable – for his safety during the transformation. Under Wolfsbane it was less painful and scream-inducing, but not entirely silent. When the mysterious guest had left and Remus could emerge from the room, he hoped he could identify them by the smell. It could at least give him some idea of their identity. However, there was no scent.

He had brought Severus’ attention to masking smells himself. Even in his paranoia, he could have omitted that issue. Most people would. Severus, however, already knew and even – had been using the spell eradicating scents. Therefore, all Remus had obtained, was revealing to him to what extent he himself was sensitive to such things.

Nevertheless, Remus had a pretty good guess for who the ‘guest’ could have been. Soon, his suspicions were confirmed.

In the first week of September, Severus was even busier with his duties than before. He was too preoccupied to find the time to tell Remus about the welcoming feast and the Sorting Ceremony for the letter to Minerva, hence why it had to be delayed. Meanwhile, Remus was getting his daily dose of unsettling information mostly from the Prophets again.

When on the first page of an issue he saw two longhaired men standing side by side, one flaunting a pearly smile, the other forcing one that betrayed signs of vexation, Remus’ jaw dropped. Not because he had not expected Severus to make an appearance next to the Malfoy, but because of the headline above their photograph. It announced, _“NO MUDBLOODS IN HOGWARTS – The Headmaster intercedes on their behalf.”_

What followed was a double-interview (though, expectedly the ‘M.L.M.’ parts were more frequent than the ‘H.S.S.’ ones). It was almost too philosophical as for the Prophet.

Lucius’ standpoint was that ‘the mudbloods’ should not only be isolated from the magical community, but also punished for ever having tried to ‘infiltrate it’. Yet, he was willing to agree with Severus’ take – that stripping them of all magical knowledge should be a punishment enough. The conclusion was that, contrary to what _“had been mentioned in the issue from 17 th of May”, _the muggleborn students of Hogwarts would by default ‘just’ be thoroughly Obliviated. Then, they would be returned to the muggle world with no recollection of magic and with fake memories. Apparently, it was all Severus’ suggestion.

Realising it must have been Lucius Malfoy, who had entered the Chambers on that day, Remus felt fury surge through him. The heat of it threatened to burn him to ashes from the inside.

 _Why hadn’t he told me? –_ he asked himself. Yet, the answer was obvious – had Severus told him, he would have had a much harder time patiently waiting for the ‘guest’ to leave. Hell, even now it pained him that he had the Minister, the man to blame for quite a lot of all this, mere feet from himself and couldn’t have done anything. If it were in the present, it would have probably been far more perturbing.

They were currently quite friendly, Severus and Lucius, more so than Remus had already conjectured. Even the Prophet’s picture showed that.

They were sitting in Severus’ office and at close distance from each other. On a cue, they turned from their play-pretend engrossing discussion and to the camera. Severus was no longer as emaciated as in July. Therefore, the two men looked almost equally imperious with their writhing snake medallions (Lucius’ was encrusted with huge gems), long hair resting on their shoulders. In fact, the more Remus stared at the picture, the more it seemed to him like one of them was copying, or maybe – had been moulded into, the other.

Lucius was raising the hand of his branded arm. His Mark peeked out from beneath the slit sleeves of his ornamental robe. He put his hand on the back of Severus’, in a part political, part familial sort of gesture. Behind them, there were the bookcases and Ajax’s empty cage, together with some of the headmasters’ pictures. Dumbledore’s depiction was lurking on the edge of the frame, as if the photographer had been instructed not to show it whole.

The contents of the interview definitely made it something to report to Minerva. After all, the rebels were unlikely to have access to the press and, even though the things Severus said ( _had to say?_ ) were full of repugnance towards _“the mudbloods”_ , his intention was rather clear. So transparent, in fact, that Remus wondered how such a thing could slide with Voldemort. Sadly, it was not like he would actually receive a comprehensive answer if he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the juicy things are coming soon (not in the meaning of 'racy', for now, though). Also: would you like to actually 'see' Severus' recollection of the battle or would someone talking about it be enough on its own? Because I kind of don't want to repeat myself in such a way, in case you all find that boring (and the dialogue I've got to have). 


	6. The Headmaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warnings:** descriptions of torture appear (fairly mild and skippable if you really want to).   
>  So, Draco's finally fully here as a character and so is Astoria! Also - I'm trying to like actually write the Eaters (because I think that it couldn't just be that they were all those kind of Inhuman Bad Shadow Characters, they had to like, have personalities and such). If I'm failing at that please do let me know... 

The Prophet article greatly undermined what Severus had been striving to achieve during the vacations. Thus, he started the new school year with a set of four Death Eaters scoffing at his benevolence.

_Lucius, that self-centred bastard, always leaving me to take responsibility for the messes he’d made._

Both the journalist and Lucius had a point in making Severus seem like the kinder-hearted one. The Malfoy was even more displeased with his newfound fame than Severus was, in all fairness (though he hid that much more aptly), thus why he attempted to retreat into the comfortable shadow whenever possible, the role of a fervidly mudblood-hating official was a substitute for that.

The reporter insisted that for the sake of great publicity neither the Headmaster nor the Minister should not be depicted like (mud)blood-hungry monsters, which they both had to agree with, due to the ‘monster’ part. Nevertheless, Lucius wouldn’t have had the muggleborn-related idea in the first place, so he had decided to blame it fully on Severus, who didn’t quite have a say in that. The plan, however, worked. The parents from blood-traitorous families seemed to have relaxed a bit with the amount of anxious letters that the new Deputy Headmistress, Irma Pince, was receiving.

Sadly, there was a dark side to this that Severus had foreseen - the article deflated Severus’ authority amongst ‘his Eaters’ quite a bit.

He had meanwhile employed two half-blood teachers, not having much of a choice – they were qualified and, while he had a Potions Master (Avery), he lacked both a substitute for Minerva and for Filius. Neither his own lineage (which was common knowledge from times, deservedly past, of Bella announcing it to everyone), nor the one of Macnair was controversial, but his decision was winced upon nevertheless. That, combined with the article, led to ‘his Eaters’ not obeying him exactly as much as he’d rather they did.

The new school year started as gloomily as could have been expected. There was no student that didn’t know either someone who had died during the war (especially since a few of the teachers did) and at least one muggleborn, who had been expelled due to their ‘dirty blood’.

Well, perhaps apart from the Slytherins – those seemed to be the least affected.

The new Head of the House was Avery, with his two positions truly a substandard copy of himself, in Severus’ opinion. The House’s members, of course, barely knew any mudbloods and even if they did, they had no affinity for them. Their parents had been either fighting or at least cheering for the side that won, with a few exceptions perhaps (but those wouldn’t be eager to reveal themselves now). On top of that, thanks to McGonagall’s locking them in the dungeons for the battle – they came out unscathed and, apart from the kids of the Eaters, barely aware of the horrors outside. Therefore, at the start of the Welcoming Feast, this was the only table at which gleeful laughter could be heard.

The other Houses, however, had few reasons to share those high spirits...

Ravenclaw, now under Aurora’s custody, had lost perhaps the most students due to the ‘cleansing’. Hufflepuff was rather high in body count from the Battle, second only to Gryffindor. However, neither of those Houses was as tightly woven into the main structure of the rebellion as Gryffindor was. That House was the most depleted of all in numbers – multiple of its students had either died or went into hiding with their friends or families; those who remained were either choking on their restrained fury or plain afraid of what was going on. Rolanda was another of the old guard who Severus spent a good portion of July convincing to take over a House, but who finally surrendered for the students’ sake.

It was a miracle that the Hat had survived through the Battle (and finally caved in enough to stop openly bickering about how the current state of things was sacrilegious and an offense to the heritage of the founders), but the Sorting itself was uneventful. No Hatstalls, barely any new Gryffindors, more Slytherins than anything else. The House that Albus had been so thoroughly undermining for years, was now growing back, at its worst version possible. Severus wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to feel about that fact – he had always wished for his House’s wellbeing, but _not like this._

While in a morally questionable way, the Slytherins were thriving. The two other, not too involved Houses, Severus presumed, would turn the corner sooner or later as well; by the end of the dinner they were already starting to act promisingly like a band of urchins.

During the feast he also shot a few looks to the Gryffindor table over his goblet (with water!) – there were few more than a hundred of kids there. Therefore it simply couldn’t be as rambunctious as it used to; as a result, the loudest, most aggravating House was now the quietest, most despondent. Even to him that looked pitiful.

The Hat later told the Headmaster, in the privacy of his office, that “This really is not the time for the brave to be sitting idly, eating from the golden plates.”

Severus would usually feel a little bit offended at that remark, but at this point was courage really all that necessary? Now it all came down to biding one’s time, either way, since any heroic action would be likely an alone feat, and therefore – one doomed to failure. _If waiting was cowardly, then perhaps ‘reason’ is as well?_ He did ask the Hat, in return, whether it thought that eleven year olds should fight in the resistance, but to that it did not respond, just grumbled grumpily.

In matters of staff, Hogwarts was still short of one teacher – for Runes, even after Severus’ controversial employment decisions and completely cutting Divination from the curriculum. Those professors he had, however, in the pervasive atmosphere of enmity and mistrust, were proving to him what he had been perfectly aware of without the help – that he was not destined to be a leader.

Attempting to control the situation at Hogwarts felt like trying to balance on an incredibly thin line while carrying crystal vials, which he could not afford to let shatter. It was just terribly, soul-suckingly exhausting.

‘The Carrows’ meant ‘problems’ to Severus. It used to do so last year, with them mistaking the classrooms for their slaughterhouses on daily basis. That practice continued, though this time Snape made sure to equip them with a set of rules and someone to survey them. There was no longer need for them to actually spread terror and he hoped they would understand that, sooner or later. However, them losing their privileges as Deputies had partly an opposite effect from the one he would have wished for, since they quite obviously weren’t exactly euphoric about that fact.

‘The Creature studies’ (Magical and muggle combined, since both those categories were animal-like, after all) and ‘the Dark Arts’ were the only two subjects Irma had gotten complaints from parents about before the end of the first week. Especially the latter seemed to invoke the worst feelings, allegedly because of the methods of pacifying the class, which involved using hexes and transfiguration. The Deputy Headmistress therefore had a talk, a quite terrifying one, Severus presumed, with her colleague and, at the same time, her defeated enemy from the Battle. Since then, Amycus seemed to have understood the error of his ways, even though, from the looks of him, no hexes were used.

Macnair, though it came as a shock to Severus, was keeping the Carrows in check as well. Presumably – because he wished to keep the chains and the curses to use on students himself, but still - that was something. Since Hogwarts was young, the Caretaker had always been somewhat sadistic and terrifying, so Severus saw no reason why that tradition shouldn’t be continued, as long as it would be limited to him alone.

Severus himself, however, due to his newly acquired label of ‘the mudbloods’ friend’ (they obviously did not dare to mention that around him, but he had his ways of knowing), wasn’t exactly in the siblings’ estimation.

Since the respect due was not given, it had to be won.

Considering that the times were not entirely peaceful, he had the Ministry’s acquiescence to using adequate methods of discipline. Those, of course, were meant mainly for ‘the old staff’, if any of them ever dared to rebel in any sort of way, but Severus did not have any issues with them. Obviously, they all hated him, but they feared him all the same. The two new teachers, Selket and Desai, while a little closer in terms of character and allegiance to the Eaters than to the old staff, were not problematic either. It was the Eaters who were currently doubting whether their fear of him was well-founded. They “haven’t seen him **really** play for a long time now” like Macnair phrased it.

Severus didn’t flinch from buying a set of Black Quills for the school (well, he did, internally, just the way he did with each ‘mudblood’ that he had to say, but it was all _necessary compromise_ ). Tortures agreed upon for severe transgressions did not faze him, as long as the affected student would be promptly taken in by Pomfrey and not permanently injured.

But he had one limit – and that was his subordinates breaking the rules that had been set for them.

\---

The clunk of boots against the stone resonated in the staircase leading to the office.

Severus slowly raised his head to the opening door, from over the _“Clandestine – inextortable”_ he had been reading (a Headmaster could certainly afford a break, even though his was simply filled with another sort of obligations). He raised his brow a little at the sight of the intruder, not having expected his visit.

A blond boy was standing tall in the doorway with his chin characteristically up and the Head Boy badge glistening on his robe, “May I, sir?” Draco Malfoy asked politely.

He was definitely much more subdued, morose even, this year than he used to be, though Severus saw some improvement compared to what he was witnessing at the Manor in June. It could be maturity, but the trauma of war seemed like a much more plausible explanation.

“Yes. Come in, Draco.” Severus said, pushing aside his reading. The gold-encrusted book’s cover immediately turned into a plainer one, on organisational matters of a school.

He looked unusually unsure for a moment, a tad preoccupied perhaps, but as soon as Severus gave him his permission, that impression vanished into thin air.

Without further invitation, the young Malfoy took a chair for himself and sat in front of Severus. His steel eyes had been darting around the office before, assessing the details of it (Severus distinctly noticed them coming upon the portrait of Dumbledore), but now they finally suspended on the level of the professor’s.

“Headmaster, there’s an issue I wanted to bring your attention to—“ the boy began in _his father’s drawl._ “Professor Carrow, Alecto Carrow–“ he specified, “—has been using harsh punishments on students who hadn’t deserved them, of which she seems to be aware of.”

Severus frowned, bringing his hands beneath his chin and forming a pyramid with his fingers while he listened.

“—I know for a fact that had happened at least twice, one of those cases involving the Cruciatus—“ Draco sounded quite blasé about it, but began turning the ring on his index finger, “—that offense shouldn’t have entailed it, therefore I thought you ought to know, sir.”

 _So young Malfoy wants me to intervene._ – Severus concluded. Draco’s father’s ability to make his pleas sound like advices, was, apparently, hereditary.

“Thank you, Draco–” Severus gave a slight nod. “Now if you could elaborate on the aforesaid cases?”

“Sure, sir.” the boy lounged in his chair, crossing his legs and leaning backwards. Severus didn’t even find it fit to scold him for doing so. It was certainly better than him slumping and staring blankly into the distance. “Well, I’m not convinced that I’m supposed to mention the students’ names, since I’ve been asked by them for anonymity — they’re afraid of consequences from you, Headmaster—“

Severus sent him a look that was supposed to convey: “Do not insult me in my office, Mr. Malfoy.” silently.

It worked as intended, since Draco recovered himself from the pause quickly, “—Of course, **I** am aware that there’ll be none, but I do understand their concern all the same. There is, however, a witness to one of those occurrences, Astoria, Daphne Greengrass’ sister—“ he added the name for the sake of him.

Severus recalled the dark-eyed blonde who had refused to continue to N.E.W.T. Potions despite her grade and who he agreed to make the Head Girl this year; her sister, therefore, must have been the girl with similar appearance who joined Slytherin two years after her. She had been a Hatstall, if he wasn’t much mistaken. She wasn’t an especially conspicuous student, but she was reliable and, most importantly, of pure blood, so her account should, indeed, suffice. Even though, if possible, he was going to try to see the evidence for himself.

“—One of the aggrieved students is a Hufflepuff, that much I believe I can tell you, sir. She used the word ‘muggleborn’ during a lesson, not intentionally, she swears—” Severus noticed that Draco said the forbidden, even if one was just quoting, word with ease. “However, professor Carrow, instead of assigning her a detention or docking points, hit her with a hex that made the insides of her hands covered in boils, then forced her to sit through the rest of the lesson and keep making notes. She spent the whole next day in the Hospital Wing. That took place last week, but I only found out when I began asking around yesterday—” Draco’s voice became a tad more hoarse, which reminded Severus that he had not offered his guest anything to drink.

There was a teapot with a warming charm on it standing behind him on the shelf. He now, without interrupting the young Malfoy, waved his wand at it and the set began filling two cups, which then made their way towards the table, floating in the air.

“—Which I did after I had been tipped off about the second occurrence in question – that is, the one with Crucio. Happened three days ago. This time it was a Ravenclaw, should that matter—“ _and most definitely not a pureblood, are they?_ “—It happened outside the Study Hall, so there have been bystanders, but—“ the boy sent him a meaningful look, meanwhile accepting the teacup with a slipped in “—Thank you, sir—“ and a sip. Then, he continued, “—but not anyone I’d managed to convince to tell me, apart from Astoria. There was a skirmish of some sort, between the Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, and the Ravenclaw argued that if werewolves are prosecuted, then so should vampires be. That, as far as I’m versed, classifies as a dangerous idea—” Draco paused to get his confirmation in the form of a curt nod, “—but is nowhere near actually ‘propagating it’. The boy was mistaken in his assumptions, he hadn’t fully grasped yet that the Dark Lord’s judgement is indisputable. He’s just a 3rd year. Professor Carrow, however, must have thought otherwise and she reacted then and there—” he raised the teacup to his lips again. When he put it down, an enigmatic, mirthless smile was curving his lips, “—she held it for a little too long—“ he said knowledgably. “The boy’s still in the hospital wing.”

Severus, who had been listening with his eyes typically boring through his discussant ( _or claimant)_ , but with little else signs of acknowledgement, now shot a look to the contents of his own teacup. That gave the boy a cue to wind up.

“That is all, I think, Headmaster.” Draco finished his little speech, now again playing with his silver ring with the likeness of a snake. Still, he would not ask him to intervene. Thankfully, Severus understood that unvoiced. “So, sir, I weren’t wrong to report this, were I?” Draco inquired instead, at the end, atypically uncertain, though his tone was still self-assured and steady.

“No, Draco, you were not. I will be glad if you keep me informed, shall such occurrences ever repeat themselves. However, I trust that they will not—“ now was his time for a conniving glance. “If that is all, I believe you may go now, Mr. Malfoy. Tell Miss Greengrass to come to me half past six.”

Draco smiled. “Will do, sir.” Next, he uncrossed his legs and stood up, again brushing the folds of his school robe with pale fingers. Nudging the cup he had left on Severus’ desk towards the Headmaster, he said “Thank you, professor Snape.” Whether he had meant that for the tea or all the rest, was deliberately left unclear.

It was almost endearing to hear his (old) title and uttered with sincere, even if restrained, gratefulness.

His eyes followed the blond boy to the staircase, until he was engulfed in the shadows and the door closed behind him.

A few hours later, Severus had the chance to begin addressing the issue.

Alecto was sat on his left side at the dinner table, after Avery. When Severus was leaving from it early, as was his custom (he wasn’t Albus to try to cultivate some kind of an amicable atmosphere), he stopped at her seat.

“My office, at 7. Adenium obesum—“ he said, loudly enough for Avery to hear this as well.

The Carrow inclined her head in response and Severus strode away. He felt eyes tracing him from the Slytherin table, but his glance at it while he opened the door only revealed to him that Draco was seated between the two blonde Greengrass girls.

_A finer company than his obtuse henchmen, not that he does have much choice now._

Goyle (himself too in the 8th, repeating year; he definitely needed it more than Malfoy did) was sitting opposite Draco, with another girl, a dark-haired one, who was resting her head on his arm.

Severus wished Draco had told him in more detail about what happened to Crabbe, the only victim of the battle from their House. He found himself wondering about that while back in his office, instead of fully focusing on the organisation of the belated end-of-year exams, which were too take place in the first week of October. They were planned for just before Halloween and sadly, Irma, though not for lack of trying, didn’t measure up to Minerva’s coordinating skills in these matters.

\---

Half past six, timid knocking on the door made itself heard. The girl, unlike her older friend, had been almost inaudible when she ascended the steep spiralling stairs. She had been given the password by Draco and was now awaiting Severus’ final “Come in.” before she dared to push the door.

“Miss Greengrass, is it?” Severus asked, measuring the 6th year with a glance. “Take a seat.”

Astoria was more frail-looking than her sister - slimmer and shorter, though apart from that, the girls could have been twins. She had her golden blonde hair up, with a green bow around it. Her pert nose moved a little as she smiled gingerly, approaching the chair Severus had put for her in front of his desk.

“Yes, sir.” 

“I would like to hear your account of Monday’s events, Miss Greengrass.”

_Preferably with held-eye contact, so that I do not have to base my judgment on gossip._

The girl bit her lip and her hand travelled to her hair, twisting a strand of it around her fingers, but despite those obvious signs of anxiety she looked right into his eyes. Maybe Draco had dropped a word to her ear that there was not much to be afraid of, at least not anymore than there always had been from the intimidating professor.

She spoke, in a rather meek voice, but he registered little of that, concentrated only on making his presence in her mind as unnoticeable as he could. Since she was, either way, relaying the events he had wanted to see, his job was much easier – she herself was guiding her thoughts to the topic he was interested in. They were emotional, of course, and therefore easier to access.

The two students, one with a green, the other with a blue tie, were discussing heatedly. Indeed, the topic was as Draco had told him.

It was very warm in the corridor and Miss Greengrass had a slight vertigo, so she sat down on a bench by the window. The short blonde figure of the professor, her muscular arms revealed by the cuffed sleeves of her robe, was passing the two quarrelling boys, unnoticed by them. Carrow seemed very tense herself, with fists curling and uncurling on the level of her hips. Suddenly, she stopped in place and turned to them sharply, drawing her wand.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” she shrieked.

The Ravenclaw, a short, brown-haired and tan skinned boy, recoiled instinctively, but hit a wall. He stood with his jaw open, but couldn’t force a word out. The Slytherin backed away as Alecto advanced on the other boy; his head of curls disappeared by the corner exactly in the moment Carrow got irritated with the silence and said the incantation.

A thin beam of red light shot from the wand and took hold of the boy. The light then disappeared, though the spell was still working – as Alecto kept her wand pointed at the writher. The boy was screaming, a high-pitched child’s scream that echoed through the corridor.

Astoria was horrified and her gaze averted from the sight of the victim, but she kept glancing at the scene nevertheless. There were several other students passing, but none of them would dare stop to watch, perhaps in case they’d become the next ones.

When Carrow was done and she had sheathed her wand back above the upper of her dragon-hide boots, she looked around and her eyes laid on the Greengrass girl.

The boy had fallen limply onto the floor. _A lucky brat –_ Severus evaluated. It wasn’t often that the curse would actually take one’s consciousness away mere seconds after it had ceased to affect them.

Carrow began barking something about Pomfrey at the girl, but Severus had seen enough and couldn’t stay in the her head unnoticed for long anyways. He pulled out of her mind, just in time – Miss Greengrass had already felt the presence, though, thankfully, interpreted it incorrectly – she was now leaning forwards in her chair, holding her head. The other of her hands was clutching the handrail tightly.

She had stopped talking, clearly because she had been disrupted with what she was probably regarding as light-headedness.

“Is everything alright, Miss Greengrass?” Severus attempted to sound politely concerned.

“Yes, sir...” she answered, rising her head slightly, “Just, I felt a little dizzy, that’s all. Maybe it’s the heat.”

Indeed, the afternoon was warm, though the office itself was nowhere near stuffy. But the girl was looking for the reason to her symptoms and Severus was eager to further point her in the wrong direction.

“Perhaps.” he agreed, congratulating himself on his combination of fortune and skill, which caused her not to comprehend that she’d been a subject of a spell.

 _Extremely open mind as for this age_ – he assessed. _Hopefully Draco will mentor her a little at some point, if they are becoming friends._

As for Alecto having been aware of her presence at the scene – the Greengrass were in the Sacred Twenty Eight, therefore the girl was probably safe from retaliation for her grit. However, openness and bravery of this kind were rather undesirable in the current circumstances, especially both at once.

Severus shot a glance at the clock. It was less than a quarter to seven. He’d rather the girl didn’t run into Carrow anywhere near his office, so it was best for her to hurry. “Well then, Ms. Greengrass, maybe Madame Pomfrey should see you.” he suggested, trying to urge her to leave.

She understood the cue and carefully got to her feet, so as not to pass out, probably. “Will you—“ she started to say, but then thought better of it and left with a meek, “Goodbye, professor.”

He barely had the time to return to the piles of documents cluttering his desk, after he had rearranged the room for his next visitor.

At 7 o’clock, about 20 seconds to it, as Severus checked, the door opened again. This time he had heard stomping before – both the Carrows wore boots with metal in their soles and tips (a useful little enhancement if one enjoyed kicking things and people).

The chair Greengrass previously sat in, he had levitated the back of the office. There was no need for his new guest to sit, or feel in any way whatsoever comfortable, after all.

“Alecto–” Severus acknowledged her entrance.

Seeing as there was no seat prepared for her, Alecto moved towards the desk and stood before it, slightly to the left, then put her hands on her waist.

To her misfortune, she did not seem at all remorseful. A tad vexed even, probably, as if him summoning her had interrupted her in something, even though she had known in advance. “Yes sir, what’s the matter?”

Severus had already decided on leaving the office before 8. In order to achieve that, he now had to get down to the brass tracks already. “If you could remind me, Alecto – what have I said about using Cruciatus Curse on students?” he drawled in a low voice.

“Solely for the purpose of quelling outright rebellion, Headmaster.” she recited, seemingly unaware of what he was referring to.

“And how do academic discussions of 3rd years classify as such?”

Now understanding blazed on her. She put on a pensive expression of someone who is recalling the memory, but without being entirely sure what in it was their mistake. However, before that, for a mere moment, Severus caught apprehension glimmering in her blue eyes.

“The boy was questioning the authority of the Lord and—“

“The boy was being a dimwit—” Severus cut in. “Which children do, quite a lot. Was he recruiting anyone for anything?”

“No.” she responded in a reluctant grumble, probably having surmised that he had seen or been told about the whole scene.

Severus, however, continued his interrogation, “Was he criticising the Dark Lord?”

“Y-“she began to answer with a nod.

He interrupted her again, “Unquestionably?”

Alecto hesitated, then forced a “No.”

“Then why would you cast the curse, Alecto? Despite me having specified that I don’t give countenance to overusing it?” Severus made sure his voice was still very level.

The woman’s eyelid flinched while she spoke, “–Because sir, I was convinced that his attitude was dangerous.”

“Were you?” Severus raised his brow incredulously. “And **I** think it was because you hold those rules in complete disregard and were convinced this occurrence wouldn’t have come to my knowledge!“ he snarled, slowly standing up from his seat. His left hand then extended in her direction quickly, most definitely not for a greeting.

She made a frantic, though very well-trained gesture of summoning her wand, but did not manage to do so in time.

_It wouldn’t help you much, anyways._

Not when he had intentionally positioned her in the office, so that there was nothing to duck behind. It was almost shameful, really, that she hadn’t noticed that earlier and hadn’t been more wary.

“Crucio.”

Severus had never been an advocate of the spell – frankly, he found it embarrassingly boring for the caster. In the arsenal of curses that were less painful, but did not guarantee a lifelong stay with the Dementors, there was always something more interesting to find. But the times had changed and it was hardly a punishable offence; besides, he thought Alecto might find that experience educative – considering how eager she was to use it herself.

Carrow must have been avoiding angering her Lord for a long time now, because she barely had any tolerance for the spell – starting to scream the second it surged through her. She squirmed in agony on the floor, shrieking violently.

Severus moved the tip of his wand away, when droplets of sweat, which had appeared on the woman’s skin, began trickling down in a spout, pouring over her shut eyelids.

Alecto’s cries broke off as abruptly as they began.

Her body continued to tremble, but she started taking deep, controlled breaths. She wasn’t opening her eyes – a good call, considering that they could be filled with nothing but rancour, maybe sprinkled with a tad of fear, if he was lucky.

When she did, however, they were still narrowed and defiant.

 _Let her off too soon, then_ – Severus gauged instantly.

“Defender of foul scum – of half-bloods.” Carrow spat out, staining his floorboards with the blood-filled saliva typical for the after-effects of the curse. Her throat was sore, expectantly, but the voice itself didn’t quaver.

“Watch your tongue, Alecto—“ Severus said softly, “—It is not very wise to insult either myself, or half-bloods in my presence.” _And around our Lord neither, actually, say what we both may about the muggleborn half._ His wand imperceptibly turned to its former target, who was now trying to scramble to her feet, again.

“Totus Ardeo.”

This one was less mundane. It set the subject’s skin on fire, or at least – caused wounds similar to burns without direct involvement of actual flames. It could be easily countered (if one wasn’t wandless and already writhing in spasms before). When unanticipated, it had quite an impressive effect, though hardly ever had he seen someone holding onto their consciousness afterwards. The injuries it gave, however, were not easily healed unless with the help of a special counter-potion (which he doubted Pomfrey would provide for Carrow, even if she knew that), thus would leave the woman some time to ponder over her transgressions.

Alecto doubled up with a scream of pain again, although, as this spell caused a less overwhelming kind of it, which didn’t paralyze any muscles, she managed to hold her odd position of someone caught halfway in standing up. She was muttering something, most likely not flattering for him, but Severus didn’t pay too much attention to that.

He held the curse until she surrendered – stopped murmuring and lowered her gaze, simultaneously falling onto the floor again, partly amortising the hit with outstretched hands. That, of course, did not happen until fog began covering her open eyes, threatening to take her consciousness away.

This time Severus made sure she wasn’t seeing red anymore and was truly contrite before he lifted the spell. “Will you remember not to do that ever again, Alecto?” he asked, still holding the Ardeo. “Not to disobey or provoke me?”

“Yes – Headmaster – I will.” she coughed, shortly before blacking out.

Severus sheathed his wand, satisfied with what could constitute for a determination to atone, if not an apology.

The wounds, to his, not quite inexpert, eye, were second degree burns. Perhaps the ones on the arms even worse than that. Either way, he had to admit that she was resilient.

He summoned his house elf, hoping that Frankie wasn’t now busy with Teddy. She appeared almost immediately before him. Then, she looked around, noticing the inert woman on her left and jumped in horror covering her mouth with her hand.

“Frankie, go fetch me Avery. He should be in his office.” Severus ordered without further ado. “Then you can return back to the Chambers.”

“Y-y-yes, master” Frankie trembled a little as she disapparated.

Severus was rather sure she had seen worse – hell, she probably had seen him in a worse state when he was young, since she was already in the Manor by that time – but she still seemed quite moved by the sight.

 _Well, this, Frankie, is my bad side, in case you were wondering if I have one. Might remind you of your old Master. Certainly reminds me of mine._ – Severus thought to himself. It was quite ridiculous that he was thinking of an elf’s opinion on him in this particular situation.

For a while Severus was alone in the office, facing away from the entrance and looking at the grounds. Sun was slowly lowering itself, casting pink and purple shadows over the linty silhouettes of the clouds. Far away, above the Quidditch pitch, a set of colourful shapes was hovering – a team was training, like in the olden days. Only now they most definitely did not have a single muggleborn in their number. The sun was slowly setting, so already one of the players swooped to the ground, probably to dismount their broom.

Muffled steps were coming from the corridor behind him, echoing in the silence of the office. Severus watched the entrance from over his arm.

 _I definitely ought to change the password before I leave for tonight,_ he reminded himself.

Truly, it had been a busy day.

Avery tentatively opened the door and first lurked in, his hand on his wand. He, it seemed, had realised much better than the Carrow sister did that she had been out of line, and was now probably calculating if he too had crossed the Headmaster.

“Without waylaying, will you?” Severus turned on his heel and pulled the door wide open with the tip of his wand.

“Excuse me Headmaster.” he said, his spindly arms partly hiding in the folds of his robe, the wand together with them. “Simply your elf looked rather panicked and I was afraid that something had happened. That you might have been in danger, Headmaster.” Avery lied, smiling. His small dark eyes were surveying the Headmaster carefully, but they, expectedly, didn’t so much as blink on the falsehood.

“Thank you for your poignant concern—“ Severus replied, reciprocating his gaze and making his tone drenched in venomous honey, “—but as you can see, I am not the wounded one.” He gestured towards the still limp Carrow, frozen in an odd, half-kneeling, half-sitting, position. “Get her to the Hospital Wing and tell Pomfrey it was a burn-hex.” _Burn-curse, although I doubt Poppy will care too much about the specifics if her victim is still there._

Avery approached Alecto and bent down to her, smirking to himself as he examined her wounds. Next, he straightened, dusted off his robe and made a stretcher appear, then lifted her body into the air and onto it.

“Not on your nice drugs anymore, Severus?” he whispered in passing, on his way out of the office.

Avery seemed to be hinting at the Draught he saw him on that one time, almost two months ago. He had, likely, mistakenly deduced that it was simply an overdose of a drug he used more often. It could fit with his outwardly more relaxed post-war demeanour and with the image the damned interview had created in their minds.

However, Severus had recently cut down on another intoxicant – wine.

Lupin’s silent, but very telling, scowls at him approaching Teddy after he’d had a drink were what provoked this decision, though Severus would never admit that to the man. In fact, he didn’t completely cut down overnight not because he wouldn’t be able to, but because he wanted to avoid giving Lupin the satisfaction and only lately did he achieve complete abstinence. Severus suspected that this resolution and his today’s breaking of it during dinner had contributed to this outburst; though really – it was a long time coming anyways.

All in all – it was completely none of Avery’s business.

Severus immediately clasped an iron hold of his arm, stopping him from leaving. “Do you want to be next, Anthony? It has been years since you have been hit with anything of mine, I assume you’ve missed it.” he said silkily, gesturing to the unconscious to further accentuate how serious his offer was.

The stretchers almost fell down onto the ground when the man lost concentration for a moment, probably recalling the memory of them testing spells on each other, but in a split-second he had regained it and they rose up once again.

Avery’s self-assured expression budged slightly, but his voice didn’t waver, “I’d rather not, Headmaster. Yet you have to admit, it’s most uncharacteristic for you to be so... strict towards your former comrades in arms, sir.”

“My patience, Anthony, is running very low these days. It can hardly be attributed to any reason other than the lack of discipline amongst some of my subordinates.” Severus wanted his disappointment known and fully internalised by each of them. Avery was a good start. “Have you seen, say, Sinistra, disobeying a single of my orders?”

“No, Headmaster.”

“Then I shall hope you can comprehend why it is my former companion-in-arms in the stretchers. Or why I will be nothing loath to send Pomfrey another patient, if the rest of my ‘comrades’ does not finally learn to follow the rules for times of peace.” Severus said, letting go of his arm.

“Understood–” Anthony smirked again. Then slickly, he amended, “Sir.”

He heedfully floated the stretchers trough the door Severus opened in front of him and, after throwing a “Goodnight, Headmaster.” over his shoulder, followed their wake, disappearing down the steep steps.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus was bustling amongst the counters, preparing himself tea – he had just taken out the silver infuser and filled it with leaves – when the door flew open. He automatically first looked in the direction of the bedroom door to check whether it was closed, though meanwhile out of the corner of his eye he saw Snape.

Remus was afraid that one of these days the door would slam into the wall and he wouldn’t even twitch, thinking that it was just that Peeves had found red dye somewhere and spilled it onto the gargoyle again, when in fact it wouldn’t be peeved Severus entering but _another Death Eater, most likely not half this decent towards Order members or children._

Severus really could use some skill in managing his emotions, though as long as he was taking it out on furniture, Remus didn’t mind too much. He did, however, turn to look at the intruder _and host_ with reproach.

“You’ll wake Teddy up.”

Severus might have returned earlier than he usually would, but the baby was already asleep (and Remus hoped for that to remain so for a longer while).

“Good.” Severus looked and sounded even more surly than he usually was when returning from his office. “Someone will scream so I do not have to.”

“Do your troubles involve teething and hunger? Or, maybe, the need to babble?” Remus mocked, putting down the flames under the whistling kettle. “Because we happen to be prepared for all those options. There’s perfectly good leftovers in the fridge, though about the painkilling potion I’m not so sure about the dosage for more-than-one year olds...“ When he turned to Severus, the man was, expectedly, glaring at him from his seat at the table.

Remus, unfazed, still staying by the counter, proposed “Tea?”

“I’ll do with wine.”

“And you’ve been doing so well **without** wine. May I suggest babbling instead?”

He wondered whether Severus had been aware he noticed, but the evidence said – possibly no, or at least he wished Remus hadn’t.

“May I suggest you shut up, Lupin?” Snape snarled immediately; then began levitating a wine bottle from its shelf and onto the counter, remaining in his seat. Next, the cupboard opened, again – with no words uttered ( _he’s got_ _nothing better than wine to waste nonverbal spells on, apparently_ ) and a glass slid out of it, landing on the other side of the counter.

Remus grabbed the bottle before it could begin gliding towards the glass and interrupted the silence, “That’s not quite going to work, but, if it brings you satisfaction then yes, you may suggest it. For now you’re getting tea—“ he decided, taking out a cup and putting another infuser into it. “Had a bad day?”

Severus could growl all he wanted – Remus had a pretty good idea of what was up (this time), rather agreed with the outcome, and therefore wasn’t easily thrown off.

Nevertheless, Severus tried to persuade him into leaving him alone best he could. “I have been under the impression that your irritating clone, who used to pester me with questions, had been replaced with a long-bearded one, quite a time ago.” he stated coldly, while Remus put the bottle back into its place.

“That’s a yes, then. And I knew you’d be babbling.” Remus said, walking over to the table carrying both teacups.

“I swear on Merlin’s name, Lupin...” Whether that was a reaction to the jab or the tea, which had been pushed towards him, remained unspecified, though Severus was sending yearning glances at the glass on the counter.

“Oh come on...” Remus took a sip, but the liquid was still too hot to drink, so he winced and put the cup away, “—Something happened with Alecto, cause she’s in the Wing now. And you probably put your hand to it.” he stated knowingly.

Severus looked at him puzzled for a moment, then, probably realising how Remus got that information, furrowed his brow. He didn’t, however, say anything about it.

Remus had acquired the Map again around the start of the school year. It wasn’t exactly given to him – just left on the desk, as if forgotten, but, since it stayed there for a few days, he finally took it. Inside the parchment, a smaller card was hidden, filled with cramped scribble, though, probably for the sake of making it readable, it was a tad bigger than the usual. _“In case you shall ever have the tremendous idea of walking into the office, or sending Frankie into it on your behalf, check with the map.”_ \- the note said.

Another precaution, and one giving Remus quite a privilege – of observing everyone in the now very busy Hogwarts castle. Remus was far too bored, even with the pastimes that he already had, not to use it for a sort of childish amusement of spying on people. Today he had been staring at the Map mindlessly, when he noticed Draco Malfoy going up to Snape’s office, then changing his mind without entering, then going again. Therefore, he continued to watch it – checking it every hour or so – for the rest of the day.

“So, as I said, I already know some of it—“ Remus continued, seeing as Severus had come around to the prospect of drinking tea and was currently doing that, despite its temperature, “—and it won’t kill you if you tell me the rest. Maybe I can slip some of it into the letter to Minerva?” he said, half-stating, half-asking at the end.

Severus shook his head as if he was brushing a fly away. However, apparently he meant that as a ‘no’ to the question, because then he spoke, “Carrow has tortured a student she should not have. I made sure to pay her in kind.”

Remus, having heard bits and pieces about Carrows’ last year’s reign over Hogwarts wouldn’t be opposed to Alecto being kissed by a Dementor, less alone hit with a curse of some sort, though Severus’ completely offhand tone was a little disconcerting.

On the other hand – he was clearly uncomfortable with what had happened, at least on some level. Remus based that judgment on Severus’ annoyance and him already smelling of wine when he arrived, which he rarely did at all, as of late.

Instead of voicing any of that casting, Remus exclaimed, “So that’s why Madame Pomfrey is ignoring her completely! Because she’s mad at her for torturing a kid, who’s probably in the hospital wing too, right?”

Apparently, he didn’t sound concerned about Alecto’s health either.

“You are far too joyful about this, Lupin. The fault of some terrible influence, I assume.” Severus still sounded slightly petulant, but was smirking.

“Well... you’ve told me to find myself something to read, then you leave me here with a library on Dark Magic – and wizarding fashion – what do you expect Severus?” He joked in the wrong moment, causing Severus to gag on his tea. However, since he didn’t look like he needed medical assistance, Remus amended, “Especially since I cannot quite update my wardrobe. And it just so happens that all the rags in it are similar in design and colour...”

Severus, face still red from momentary breathlessness, said, hoarsely and in a not-quite threatening voice, “One word. One more word Lupin, and you will be sentenced to just the button-ups.”

Remus shrugged, sending him an innocent look. While at it, he managed to notice that Severus had his wand out again and was summoning the wine. Remus decided not to acknowledge that, but to simply snatch it from him again. When he did so, however, Severus ordered “Give me that.”, now his tone far more stern than in the warning before.

_Well then, how about a compromise._

“Not likely—” Remus replied, and before Severus’ expression could get any more indignant, added, “—One glass, and I’ll pour it for you.”

“How gallantly—“ Severus remarked sarcastically, probably sensing his intention.

Remus got up to the counter with the bottle and graciously did not engage in further taunting on the topic of Snape’s near-alcoholism. He had only (grudgingly) tolerated it for so long, but now that he knew Severus was quite able to do without it, whenever he simply resolved to, Remus was definitely all for him cutting back on it.

He returned to see Severus’ teacup empty and a scornful gaze of his narrowed eyes. “This is not a glass of wine.”

“No, this is half a glass of wine.” Remus agreed, putting said object of questionable identity on the table before him, to then return to his own chair. “A reasonable amount to have, especially when you’ve already had some of it during dinner—“

“And that you know how?” Severus marvelled. “Is there a label called ‘wine’ on the map?”

“Sadly, no. But, may I remind you, I do have a sense of smell. Probably a better one than most people do.” Remus explained.

Severus grumbled something that sounded very much like “Eh, wolf.”, though without the signature curled lip of disgust, so Remus didn’t feel the need to defend himself.

“By it I can tell you’ve drunk already, not too long ago.” Remus, again unabashed, went on, “I can’t tell how much, however. And I’m not letting you anywhere near Teddy if I don’t.”

Severus sighed with exasperation and said nothing, emptying the glass with more caution than he usually would, even though still very quickly, barely savouring it at all.

The current inner workings of the school weren’t kept away from Remus, though Severus was very attentive not to let him share too much of that with Minerva. Snape was absolutely paranoid about the letters – examining them with at least the sternness he used to grade essays with and sometimes (once out of the four so far) making Remus rewrite them completely. However, they did provide an excellent opportunity for Remus to find out more about, _well – everything_ , though he still had to use his newly developed skill of voicing questions as statements, so that Severus’ compulsive urge to argue or correct him was put to good use. Nevertheless now, that he sniffed out a chance to hear more, he instantly took it.

“I can benevolently let you have another half a glass, if you tell me why there were such pilgrimages to your office today...” Remus bargained, reaching for his wand to Accio the bottle from the kitchenette.

“You are tempting me to take the map away, Lupin.” Severus said, though while nodding. “I’ll gladly take the risk of lifelong Azkaban sentence, if it spares me such prattle.”

“That can be arranged anytime, you know—“ Remus smirked, quite against himself.

“Oh believe me I do.” Severus said, releasing the empty glass from his grasp and sliding it to Remus. “In short – all the visits in one way or another concerned the Crucio Alecto used on a 3rd year, who did not commit anything that should entail such punishment—“ he paused, perhaps cataloguing the guests in his mind, “—Well... all visits, except from Irma in the morning... but I shall suppose you have observed that there is a pattern to hers.”

Very typically, Snape was rather laconic and attempted to steer the conversation away from its main topic, though Remus wasn’t interested in Pince’s and Headmaster’s cooperation enough to take the bait.

“Alecto used an unforgivable on a student then.” Remus echoed hollowly. “I thought you’d been saying something about trying to ban that at school completely...”

“Yes and no.” Severus ‘answered’, looking at the wineglass entranced while Remus refilled it, “Crucio greatly affects cognitive abilities, especially in younger subjects—“ from the tone alone one could infer that Severus was talking about methods of collecting Plangentines, not torturing little kids, “—therefore I am mostly against its use on school grounds. However—“

“Mostly?” Remus couldn’t stop himself from saying that in a scandalized tone, meanwhile having spilled a droplet or two of the red liquid he was pouring. He had a very clear vision in his head, of a barely 13 year old doubling up with pain somewhere on the Hogwarts’ marble. The mental picture of Carrow then doing the same wasn’t bettering how that made him feel.

“Mostly—“ Severus repeated and his voice grew harsher, “—there are offences that simply call for it.”

“Sure. A whole plethora of things that justify cursing children.” Remus said with undisguised bitterness. The bottle he had been holding tapped loudly against the wooden tabletop.

“If you wish to see an actual litany of those, then maybe I should bring you last year’s statute.” Severus proposed. He paused, emptied his glass in two gulps and only then continued in a tone of mock-surprise, “—Oh wait! There was none – except for Umbridge’s guidelines – which could be surmised as ‘make them obey’—“, which melted into equally fake sweetness, “—and my dearest Carrow siblings could do as they pleased.”

Severus stood up from the table and made a gesture of trying to reach for the bottle, which still stood next to Remus. Lupin looked at him with an expression that probably was some kind of a hybrid between a pleading and a warning one and Severus, reluctantly, drew his hand back.

Snape didn’t, however, seem too keen to continue their conversation, now quietly cleaning his glass and teacup in the sink, rather swiftly, as if in a hurry. When he was done with that and turned off the tap, he headed out, while saying over his shoulder, in the same detached tone as before, “—But yes, Lupin, there are things that justify torturing children. Say – not having them take the adult punishments and face Wizengamot, for an example easy enough for you to comprehend.”

The door closed behind him quietly to then open after a while, when he was heading into the laboratory. Remus noted him passing by, though quite absently. He was then mulling over what kind of calculations Severus was doing on daily basis – of the ‘which atrocity is worse to allow or commit’ kind. Because it was clear to Remus that he was, indeed, doing such calculations in every minute he spent in that office beside the wall. 

_All for the greater good, isn’t it?_ Remus wondered, dipping his lips in the still warm contents of his cup. The scent of holy basil filled his nostrils, but it wasn’t exactly as calming as he wished it to be.

_Is it, though?_


	7. The Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Torture and explicit description of its aftermath; definitely not just mentions.  
>  Finally there's both the spicing up and later little fluff I've been speaking of; hope you'll enjoy.

By November, Severus had gotten used to the newest version of his reality of being the Headmaster, and a more intimidating but less actually cruel one than before. It seemed that so did Lupin – gasping less and less at the horrible things he let Macnair do to pacify the students, when Severus recounted them to him during their (theoretically) letter-oriented conversations.

More often than not now, Remus grasped **why** Severus had to connive at all this better than he could have explained it himself. Why Severus would even care what the werewolf, coward and past almost-murderer of himself ( _were those things ever in the past, really?_ ) thought about his actions, however, he wasn’t certain. Yet – deprived of all other moral benchmarks, he found himself treating Lupin as one.

Meanwhile, the students and the staff alike had also adjusted to the new reality. In comparison to last year – Hogwarts was now an oasis of serenity.

The boy who was hurt a few weeks ago by Carrow had already returned to classes (fortunately - without even having to visit St. Mungo’s). ‘His’ Eaters, having seen the live display of poorly healing wounds that Alecto was, watched themselves a tad bit more; the old guard, on the other hand, grew less silently virulent as it slowly dawned on them that Severus was striving to keep everything peaceful in the Castle.

However, he was still battling the controversies caused by the Prophet article from a few weeks ago.

On top of that – the wolves had definitely not left the Forest if them attempting to force the barrier was any proof of that. Even worse – in some place they must have succeeded, because sightings of humans sneaking out of it and into Hogsmeade had been reported. Therefore, the Eaters had gotten permission from him to cross the barrier, if they so wished. Corban had been notified, of course, but he was notoriously blasé about Hogwarts’ problems in this matter, since their wolves weren’t as murderous as could be feared they would have and because the hunt for them was not the only one he was conducing. Muggleborns too, though less shunned to the outskirts of society before and thus – now more easily traceable, were a target for Yaxley’s Department.

So far, the search had not yielded anything – until one evening.

It was a boring and plain day, though not even a particularly bleak one as for autumn. Severus hadn’t had much sleep – preparing the potion for Lupin – and therefore in the evening was only wishing that he could excuse himself from his self-appointed duties already. He was sitting in the dim-lit office, poring over a pile of parchment with the quill in his hand. The rain had just stopped drumming against the roof, leaving resonating silence to be filled with whispers. The portraits were murmuring their complaints about him having a not headmaster-like script, but he didn’t even have the motivation to silence them. They weren’t interfering with anything important anyways.

Suddenly, steps came from the spiral staircase. Severus lifted his head from the heap of pages before him. Into the ajar door, a stocky figure with long hair held in a tight ponytail, emerged from the darkness, glancing at the Headmaster sheepishly.

“Come in, Alecto.” he said quietly. Nowhere near as nicely as Dumbledore would have, but with similar restraint. On the other hand – Dumbledore wouldn’t have had a Carrow in his office and neither would he have a Carrow who he had tortured there.

“Headmaster, sir—“ _Slip in a few more titles, why don’t you._ This whole commanding respect thing already was turning against Severus and testing another sort of patience he wasn’t exactly overflowing with. “—brother and Macnair wanted me to summon you. They have a thing, downstairs.” she informed.

_Downstairs? What could it be that they cannot bring to me directly?_

Perhaps Alecto read the question from his face (unlikely), perhaps she was terrified that the silence would turn against her somehow, but she added, “It’s about the wolves.”

_So, probably, a corpse. Terrific._

“Lead the way, then.” he ordered her, standing up from the desk.

He followed her down the stairs and through the corridors in silence, until she came to a halt in front of the door of an unused classroom. Alecto opened the door, shifting to the side to let him in. Once he could take in the scene, he gestured for her to leave. She signed off with a curt nod and strode away.

Inside, there stood Macnair and Amycus Carrow, on the teacher’s dais by the desk. They were both holding their wands directed at a pallid shape, which looked like a cowering human. When they heard the door opening, they both raised their heads at him. The triumphant smirks on their faces turned into more restrained expressions of respect.

The shape was, doubtlessly, a werewolf from the Forest.

“What do you have for me?” Severus inquired with nonchalant interest, regarding them with a furrowed brow.

“A gift, Headmaster.” Macnair said, grinning wickedly.

In a synchronised motion of wands, they dragged the man forward. He tried to resist, thus propelling them to pull at the ropes even more harshly. The werewolf howled. Macnair, apparently, liked the sound. He raised his wand up together with the man’s wrists (which were so thoroughly cut through already that the hands threatened to fall off) like a horrible puppeteer. The werewolf howled again, then bared his very human teeth at Macnair, when the Eater turned his face to him to admire the anguish he was causing.

Severus stood there, watching.

Finally, Macnair had had enough or maybe the wolf angered him with his chucking. Either way, he cocked his eye at Carrow and, as the other man moved his wand to the front, so did Macnair. As a result, the werewolf was yanked forward, his body stretched on the marble below the podium. The two of them stepped towards Severus after the wolf.

The captive attempted to prop himself up on elbows, back into the position he was in before, which guarded his stomach and chest a little bit. Neither of his captors liked that. Carrow whispered an incantation and the ropes he was controlling for a moment incandesced in red. The shriek of pain was muffled, because in that moment Macnair kicked the man, aiming straight at his mouth.

“Here’s the beast.” Macnair declared, his shoe now on the man’s neck – pressing the captive to the ground with all the might he had.

The werewolf’s chin hit the marble with the pop of a breaking jawbone. He landed inches from Severus’ boots, splattering them with blood, probably from a bitten tongue or lacking teeth.

“Walden, you are making a horrible mess.” Severus reprimanded him, taking a step back and casting a nonverbal Tergeo.

Then, Severus dusted his robes off from droplets of blood barely visible on the black anyways and looked at the werewolf with disgust. He didn’t quite have to fake it – the man had his face so badly disfigured from whatever Walden and Amycus had done to him already, that it could only invoke either that or pity. Severus couldn’t quite afford to feel one of those emotions, so he had to settle for the former.

The torturers had clearly focused on maiming his head and upper body more than anything else and they did so in ways resembling ‘the mudblood’ ones, which required more contact, rather than solely with magic.

The werewolf had two huge black eyes growing on his skin and the unmistakable lines of Amycus’ favourite cutting binds on his neck and arms. He was naked, the bony back as wounded as his neck was, engorged on the shoulders and dabbled with bruises. From all of this, especially the blood loss – he should have lost consciousness quite a while ago, judging by how emaciated he was already. Now to that was added the abnormally crumpled jaw, slowly swelling and colouring itself yellow and purple from the hit.

Nevertheless, he tried to hoist _~~himself~~ itself _up again - to face Severus - lifted his head up and smiled a crooked grin. Perhaps he might have not meant it as such, but his injuries would not quite allow it to be any less askew. He indeed lacked teeth and his lips were covered with blood dripping from the broken nose.

Once he had watched the whole performance serenely, Severus’ moment to finally snap came. “Why would you bring **it** to me?! Do I look like wolf warden to you?!” he snarled at the two Eaters before him, wand immediately slithering into his curling fist.

He needed to discourage them both from ever having such _an absolutely ingenious idea_ and from dealing with him themselves. The wolf was **his** , now that they’ve brought him, hopefully they too understood the mechanics of that. _Of a pack, ironically._

“Headmaster, we thought—“ Carrow began in a grovelling tone.

Macnair, however, wasn’t so easily swayed into anything that resembled fear, not on this matter. “—you could use some fun as well.” he finished.

“This—“ Severus pointed his wand at the wounds of the man, who was still looking at him, his blue eyes irrationally calm. “—is quite the pathetic idea of fun, Walden. You could do better in the olden days. Nevertheless, there’s no accounting for taste—” he sighed deeply and his voice got all silky, “—But why did you not report it to the proper authorities instantly, if you may?”

The idea of people being held hostage and tortured in the classrooms of ‘his’ castle, sounded oddly revolting to Severus. _Bella would have guessed and said that as a jab_ – he thought, once again thankful that the Lestrange had joined the legions of hell already. He would never have gotten to where he was now if she had survived, with her venomous cooing against him whispered to the ears of the Lord and Lucius alike. Luckily, neither of his subordinates was half as shrewd as Bellatrix had been.

“Well, we thought we answer directly to you, Headmaster, so with this as well. And we simply did what we thought necessary before.” Carrow explained, looking him in the eyes.

“You ‘thought’, didn’t you?” Severus took a step towards the man. Carrow didn’t back down, but he visibly regretted ever following Macnair’s suggestion, for a second apprehensively glancing at Severus’ wand. He knew what had happened to his disobeying sister.

Severus now congratulated himself on that decision, because there was no other way to manage them all than instilling fear. Amycus clutched his own wand tighter and the binds on the werewolf’s limbs cut deeper into his skin. He howled with pain again, a horrifyingly funny sight with his jaw dangling on its hinges.

Severus looked back at the blonde man before him, then at Walden. “Well, may I have you know, then, that **you** are not the law—“ he informed them, cuttingly.

_Alas neither am I, really, but that you don’t need to hear._

“Next time you find a beast, you are either to kill **it** on sight, though preferably in its wolf-form, or notify Corban, only then myself. And, for Salazar’s sake, do not bring it in here. This is a school, not your wolf-hunters’ cabin. Is that clear?”

His scold seemed to have little to no effect on Macnair. _Of course – smelled blood, will act like a goddamned beast himself. And he fancies that he kills them..._ One of these days, Severus was sure his wand would slip, at least to Imperio the fucker to resign. Though, on the other hand, he was a talented substitute for Filch – if a student valued their limbs intact, they would not dare break a rule. He was also the only person Carrows really respected for his cruelty, not just position in the ranks, so he had his uses.

“Do you want us to take it back then? Headmaster?” Macnair asked with a smirk, deliberately forgetting the title at first. He was definitely more assured than Severus would like him, though now it could be excused by the agitation. “Deal with it nice and clean on the grounds?”

There was only one answer Severus could give to that. “No. There will be no need for that.” he said, smiling maliciously and lowering his gaze from Macnair’s eyes onto the werewolf. He stepped forcefully onto his fingers and the man bit his own lip to quell the whimper, but couldn’t recoil. “If **it** is already here, then I see no reason why I shouldn’t take care of it. Though, as I have said, the mere fact that I can, means that you are losing your grip.”

In response, Macnair’s eyes glistened with excitement, then the respectful smile returned onto his face, in the place of the smirk..

Severus wondered what would have happened if he faltered on the words – at least twice now he had been on the verge of saying ‘him’ instead of ‘it’. He had to watch himself.

“Do you want to stay for the show?” Severus asked invitingly, but glaring at them in the way that told them not to, and, thankfully, they seemed to have understood. He wished to be alone with the wolf.

He shot the man on the floor another appraising, measuring glance – a puddle of crimson had formed around him, but he was still, visibly straining himself all the while, fighting to keep his head up and looking only at Severus. In the mauled lines of his face it was hard to work out what his expression meant.

Having scanned him thoroughly again, Severus added “—I doubt it will last long.”, baring his teeth in a crooked half-smile to ‘his’ Eaters.

Carrow and Macnair nodded in agreement.

“Do you want the binds to remain, Headmaster?” Macnair inquired, offering to transfer them from his wand.

“No, thank you, Walden. **It** is not running anywhere either way.” Severus refused. “Be back in an hour or so, I will leave the body in here and expect you to take care of it.”

On that order, the two of them finally exited, leaving the werewolf unbounded and panting from the pain they both inflicted while unspelling him.

Once they were out of earshot, Severus cast a silencing and a locking charm on the door. Then, he crouched next to the man on the floor. “Apologies for hurting that hand of yours. Do you want water?”

The werewolf was still boring those dark blue eyes into his unnervingly, and now they widened with disbelief. “Have I – hea’d you w’ong—“ he spluttered through the gaps in his teeth, but somehow managed to sound obstreperous. “—Headmaste’?”

“No. You have heard me quite right, whatever your name is. My offer still stands.” Severus took out a leather pouch out of his pocket and unscrewed it.

“Whateve’ — my name — is?” the man snorted mirthlessly, which immediately turned into a cry. “You — think — I have a name?”

“I am pretty convinced you do, yes. Most people have one. Will you be drinking or shall I put the cap back on?” Severus repeated patiently.

“People?” As for a dying man, the werewolf seemed to be having quite a lot of fun in his last moments. He now burst into hysterical cackling, which, due to his injuries, caused him to then shriek with anguish.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. And that is solely a medical advice.” Severus told him, immobilising the jawbone with his own hand until the werewolf got a hold of himself. “Now drink.” he ordered, opening his mouth and guiding the pouch towards it with his other hand.

The werewolf could probably overpower him in that moment, since he wasn’t even holding his wand. He either believed he wasn’t capable or didn’t realise that, because he simply let himself be watered without protest or any attempts at attacking him. He was instantly more placid than with Macnair and Carrow around, thus oddly and very disturbingly reminding Severus of another placid werewolf he knew.

“Why?” the werewolf asked, once he took the pouch away. He was pointing to the bottle with the hand Severus had stomped on before – it was pulsating with blood, from the looks of it, and probably had some of the fingers broken. Then he moved, edging away from Severus, strenuously inching to a position in which he’d be able to lie down, looking at him all the while. Severus had deemed him absolutely no danger for himself, so he let him.

“Because you will die in a moment and I have water with me. There is no need for you to die thirsty.” Severus reasoned plainly.

“We’en’t you—“ he struggled to speak. Drinking must have been rather painful with the amount of wounds to his face and mouth.

“Going to torture you first?” Severus marvelled sarcastically, though indeed the man could, or even – should, have conjectured just that from their conversation before. That was the goal, after all. “No. I am not Walden. He was lax on you, as for himself, I wasn’t joking with that. Therefore I will have to maim you quite badly.” The man twitched on that, but kept eye-contact bravely. “Fortunately, these fools would not be able to distinguish post-mortem wounds if they hit them on the head, so I will kill you first. Hence why that does not concern you, —“ Severus paused to let the werewolf finally state his name.

“Claude—“ he filled in, with effort.

Severus, having deemed his pouch lost anyways, transfigured it into a small pillow. Since the man didn’t even wince at his touch despite the injuries (Severus did, though, but that the captive seemed to have expected), he lifted his head and put the pillow underneath it for support, so that he wouldn’t have to fight to keep it above the ground.

“—Claude, then. You will have all the privileges of a dying man—“ he continued, transfiguring now a chair into the blanket. The man must have been cold, though it was hard to distinguish between a shudder of pain and one from the temperature. He threw it over Claude’s scarred nape. The werewolf watched his endeavours with growing incredulity visible in his eyes. “Another drink of water, if you wish, last words and whatnot. First, however, I will look into your head, unless you tell me on your own – are there others?”

Severus had to ask him that.

Neither Macnair nor Carrow looked like they had realised that should have been done, but Severus not only wanted that knowledge to pass it to Yaxley, but also – to be prepared if there indeed still were others hiding in the Forest. A week or two, or well – four – because until the next Full Moon, at best, and both Macnair and Carrow would have forgotten all he had told them today, he was pretty sure about that. Therefore, he would rather know in advance – how many, what ages and such, not to be too stunned when they were ultimately caught, mangled by the human beasts.

“So— that is why—” Claude coughed, “—that’s why—you’e being—all nice—isn’t it? You want—something.”

“I am not being nice, Claude. Barely humane, if even.” Severus specified. He now sat on the edge of the podium, where the blood hadn’t dripped onto it before, and the wolf had to turn his head to keep staring at him. Claude mewled with that movement. “Besides, what I want, I can very well take with force.”

“Then – what’s the – diffe’ence – fo’ me?”

Severus cracked his fingers. “Tell me, are you a wizard, Claude?”

“No. Knew ‘bout magic, but neve’ t’ained.” Claude’s voice was now so hoarse, that the sound came closer to scratching something against stone than to speech.

“Then I am glad to inform you—“ Severus began, taking the pillow from below the man’s head and placing his skull carefully on the floor, “—that a wave of a wand can not only increase your pain—” he transfigured the pouch back and filled it by means of Aguamenti, then gave it to the man.

Claude was more reluctant to take it this time, wary of what Severus would want in return, but then latched onto the bottle. The muscles in his face and neck pulsated oddly as he drank, probably due to twitches of ache.

Severus held his head up while he was swallowing and continued speaking, “—like my friends have presented earlier, but relieve it, just as well. Without actually healing the wounds, which is exactly what this situation calls for. I will now use that charm on you. If you tell me what I want to find out, truthfully, and believe me, I will know that, then I will not lift that spell until you die.”

He couldn’t kill him with just an Avada, so the man really could use all the soothing he could get.

“And – if I – don’t?” the werewolf’s head twitched on the pouch, now again turned into a pillow.

“A deal is a deal, Claude. If you do not keep your end, I will not keep mine.” Severus stated more coldly.

_Why would he not simply cooperate? Why does he have to stop being placid now?_

He really wanted to believe that seeing the man’s agony would bring him not only absolutely no pleasure, solely revulsion. That wasn’t entirely true and Claude (perhaps it was intuition, or the werewolf’s enhanced senses Lupin mentioned a few times) must have deduced it somehow.

“You’ f’iends – and you – are quite – the same lot.” he spat out together with blood, aiming for Severus’ hand but missing pitifully. His jaw rocked as if it were to come apart from the rest of his skull. His eyes narrowed and pierced Severus with hatred, the puffed eyelids turning the werewolf’s face into an abhorrently decorative mask. “You’e – even wo’se – than them – p’obably. They – don’t cowa’dly – lie –“

He most definitely meant the torture, having mistakenly conceived from Severus’ previous words, that there would be any if he lied. Sadly, he had the misfortune of saying something he shouldn’t have. Severus bolted up and, from above, looked into the unyielding blue eyes. He felt fury gather in him rapidly, but his left hand remained empty. It was very much possible for a Legilimens to inflict pain without a wand.

Severus barged into Claude’s head brutally, looking for something of worth to him, something that would cause the man anguish and completely break him.

It wasn’t long until he had found it – there must have been something that brought him to the edge of the Forest, the only part of it where his Eaters would dare venture, nearby the barrier. A girl, who he referred in his thoughts to as ‘daughter’, though the lack of kinship couldn’t be clearer from their looks, had found – or made – the gap in the magic of the barrier. _Good to know, so that we can repair it_ – he spoke in the werewolf’s mind. The gap was close to the cave, near the dragonhide-worker’s house and it seemed that the man had not shared its whereabouts with the rest, for fear of them getting hurt outside it like the girl did.

Severus played the memory of the kid’s dead body in Claude’s arms over and over, and over, until he heard wailing. That sound irked him, so he switched to Macnair’s kicking – the recollection of physical injury wasn’t half as hurtful, but, considering that it was fresh – it was much more vivid in terms of emotions. In his fury, he almost forgot what he had entered Claude’s mind in the first place for.

Claude lived with three others – at least until the girl had been killed. _Two left, then._ One woman and another man, younger than this one. A makeshift family. Severus wasn’t interested in dwelling on the details. None of them was magically trained and the loop in the enchantment was probably accidental magic of the youngest one. They had all been hiding in the Forest for months, having communicated with its wolves on the Full Moon.

The girl left without permission, because she was hungry. _As simple as that._ A villager must have seen her exiting the Forest and she was – irony of fate – mauled to death by dogs, by the looks of her corpse. She had been dead for two Moons now, as far as he could tell from a quick scan of the man’s mind. Her, apparently adoptive, parents had been rather distraught, but the boy seemed furious – they had to stop him from seeking vengeance. Perhaps he would wish to attack, leading the non-transforming wolves. _We’ll have to hunt your ‘son’ down first_ – he decided, pushing the thought into Claude’s mind.

Next, Severus pulled out from the werewolf’s head. The man had been fighting tears (thankfully, because him closing his eyes for any longer would have made Severus’ job a bit more difficult), but now he tried to spit towards him again, raising his head from the pillow with visible exertion. All he managed to do was splattering his own face with new droplets of crimson.

“Any last words, Claude?” Severus asked, still standing over him.

“Go – to hell – Headmaste’” Claude barked, trying to hold his jaw in place with the unsquashed hand.

“Not very creative, are you?” Severus scoffed, getting his wand out, “Though I assure you I will, eventually.”

Severus exclaimed “Qutilo!” and the werewolf’s body was contorted with spasms, his back bending violently. He yelped a few times as the rhythmical convulsions surged through him, then fell inert onto the ground with a muffled thud when his heart stopped working.

 _This is not how this was supposed to go -_ Severus thought with a twinge of guilt immediately when the body hit the floor.

He desperately wanted to be just disgusted with what he had just done, and yet the truth refused to mould itself accordingly to his wishes. He knew he should have stopped himself from the psychical torturing, but it was too late for that now. Meanwhile, the mere fact that he was able to cast the spell he had not used for 18 years, to **intend** it – spoke more on the state of his soul than any rightfully hateful prisoner could.

He hadn’t gone looking for it and wouldn’t have, voluntarily, but that was the only difference between him and the rest of the Eaters. That, and what Claude had pointed out – that out of all of them only he was such a fraud, in absolutely every aspect.

He added a few curses to mangle the man’s body thoroughly, from the inside just as well, in case Macnair wanted to see ‘how it should have been done in the first place’. Then he re-transfigured what necessitated that, and looked around the room to ensure everything was in order. Apart from the puddle of blood before him with the pale shape of a man in it – it was.

Finally, the Headmaster exited the classroom of his school, leaving the corpse in front of the teacher’s desk.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus was now discovering a new hobby – people watching. Not only people, actually, every living thing ‘on the outside’ was absolutely fascinating.

The huge window in the bedroom overlooked the Black Lake’s shore, with the beech tree visible in its corner – a view quite captivating on its own even. He had levitated the chair from the transformation room to the side of that window and would sit in it with a cup of tea reading, with the occasional breaks for glancing down at the current occurrences around the Castle. He was, of course, seated so that even if the guards on the window failed, he wouldn’t be visible from the outside.

He just couldn’t refuse himself that - the ability to monitor what was going on mattered a lot to him, these days, even if it was just the tentacles of the Giant Squid that he was monitoring.

Ever since the school year started, there were students strolling around, though all of them kept distance to the verge of the Forbidden Forest and a much bigger one than it was habitual for them ever before. The Hagrid’s hut (formerly, since now the half-giant was in Azkaban, according to Severus), part of which Remus could see from the other window, was already an unkempt ruin – not a soul cared for it. However, apart from that, the life during the daylight hours remained similar to how it had always been – Remus could see the groups of children capering about, imagine their laughter. The main discrepancy was that there were now patrols to the edge of the Forest, of one or two men that made the crowds of students come apart in fear - apparent even from this high above.

In the nights the patrols were even more visible in the deserted grounds. They also clearly were arranged for an hour instead of being sent in on some sort of a disconcerting signal – happening every day. Two well synchronised figures would march through the grounds, along the barrier he knew to be surrounding the Forest, then back into the castle. Severus had told him that there were two patrols a night.

Once, in November, however, something unusual did come to the patrol.

The night was bright – it was two days until the next plenilune. Remus was sipping lemon balm tea, inhaling the fumes as the brew cooled down in the cup. Teddy was already asleep, with Frankie sent away to the office. Suddenly, Remus saw three shapes emerging from the verge of the Forbidden Forest, one of them pulled after the two others. The dragged person seemed to be trying to free themselves, crawling away and struggling to their feet. The patrollers stopped and Remus, from his position by the window, saw brilliant beams of red and purple. The three silhouettes continued towards the entrance to the castle, the middle one no longer trying to get away.

 _They’ve caught someone_ – Remus realised, putting away his book and cup onto the desk beside him. Next, he took out the Map from one of the desk’s drawers.

Indeed, Macnair’s and Amycus Carrow’s dots had just entered the castle, accompanied by one called ‘Claude Martin’. They headed towards the right wing, then to an abandoned classroom. Remus couldn’t keep observing them, because Teddy began crying. By the time he pacified the child, Macnair’s dot had been left alone with the captive. Remus traced the movements of the other Eater’s dot – it was now next to Alecto Carrow’s, walked with hers through the second floor corridor, then descended again. Meanwhile, Alecto’s, Remus noticed with his throat clenching, was ascending the stairs heading towards the Headmaster’s office.

Soon, Severus followed Alecto to the classroom. Now there were four dots in the front of it – the two from before still close to their prisoner, Severus’, at first, away from him. After a while, in which Remus forced himself to drink his, now lukewarm tea and not think about what was doubtlessly going on downstairs, Severus was left alone with Claude Martin.

Remus was shoving away all his knowledge about torturous Dark Art spells into the back of his mind with desperation, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the dots in the otherwise empty classroom.

 _Why the fuck did they bring the captive to a classroom in the first place? There are dungeons in this castle._ – the detached thought appeared.

Then, after a while – just like that – Claude’s dot disappeared.

Remus sincerely regretted that it never popped into their heads to add a function informing about deceased people’s bodies to the map. On the other hand – it wasn’t a surprise it didn’t. They were young and naive and would never have imagined that there **could be** deaths on Hogwarts grounds.

Severus’ dot remained next to the where the corpse lay, invisible on the map, for a moment. Then he left the classroom, heading upstairs.

Remus stood up and put the map, still open, into his pocket, then he headed towards the kitchen holding the cup. _Severus just killed a prisoner. –_ the realisation descended on him while he scourgified the dish.

_Severus, who shares a living space with me, who takes care of my son, just murdered a, most likely completely defenceless, bound prisoner._

Remus wasn’t sure if he wanted to have seen that. He had been saying a whole lot about it being better to know the truth, even when it was painful, but this wasn’t painful as much as it was horrifying. Killing was one thing – a necessity sometimes – but when not in combat, it was a whole different issue.

Now that he had found out, however, he had to confront Severus on it.

He had to look him in the eyes and hear a “Yes” or a “No” concerning the torturous part of it, the unnecessary one, because – while this was different from Severus hurting his Death Eater subordinate or from what he did on Dumbledore’s commands, he possibly didn’t have much of a choice in it. As far as Remus could conjecture, the inner workings of the DE were very much the law of the jungle based, thus murder, as a sign of power, was probably occasionally required to stay in said power. To Remus that, of course, sounded like a sort of a horrible skit, but he had to accept equally or more horrible things as his reality lately, so he was convinced he could digest this too.

Besides, Severus probably did it _for the greater good,_ which was starting to sound more and more like the punch line to some kind of a cruel cosmic joke.

Once Remus was done with the washing up, he glanced at the Map. Severus was in his office, therefore there was only a wall between them currently.

Remus couldn’t go to him immediately. It would be obvious what had prompted him and he wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from Severus as a reaction; also - he rarely used the ability to enter his office and knew that even with the map he couldn’t get too confident. Macnair and Carrow could come to the Headmaster any moment still, to report on something concerning the dead prisoner. If somebody saw him or even the bookcase moving away to reveal the door...

He returned to the bedroom and put the book into its place on his nightstand, then checked on Teddy, who was underneath the silver blanket and holding his duck’s head, breathing steadily. Remus began pacing around, looking into the, now calm, nightly landscape bathed in dark greys and navies. After some time, he took out the Map again – Severus was still where previously. The office was empty and with no one in its close proximity, so Remus decided to risk it already and left the room.

The moment he pushed the door and the bookcase guarding it drew away, Severus pulled out his wand, aiming at the other entrance, and whispered a locking and imperturbing charm. He had been sitting lopsidedly by his desk, supporting his head with his hands and, from the looks of it, talking to the portrait of Dumbledore. Now that an intruder came, however, Albus’ depiction closed its eyes and was pretending to sleep. Frankie, if she was there somewhere, was well hidden. There was a faint smell of blood in the air, mixing with the usual herbs surrounding Severus.

“What is it, Lupin?” Severus asked tiredly, but without the irritation that could have been expected, while his gaze travelled back from the entrance and to Remus.

“I need to talk to you.”

Severus surveyed him carefully upon that response. He must have noticed the piece of parchment sticking out from Remus’ pocket, which he had sloppily pushed into it before.

“You have seen, then.” he stated coolly.

“Yes.” This was unplanned, but there was no use lying to him. “I need to talk to you. About it.” Remus repeated.

Severus stood up slowly and walked towards the entrance to the chambers. He stopped about four feet from Remus, then gestured to him to walk inside first. Remus did just so.

Inside, in the kitchen, Remus took a seat closest to the counter, not wanting to make the conversation loud, if possible, and seeing as Severus was going to rummage through the cupboards _definitely for a wineglass. And he had almost quit, or so I have thought._

“So?” Severus prodded from over his arm, opening the small door and taking out a bottle. He uncorked it proficiently, with a wandless spell, then began pouring himself a portion, one that threatened to spill over the rim of the glass.

Remus watched him, ignoring his encouragement to speak. Severus now turned to face him, the glass in his hand and, suddenly recalling that Remus was there, asked him, finger pointed at the bottle. “You?”

Remus shook his head firmly. “No, thanks. And, to be honest, you shouldn’t either.”

“I will do what I want, but thank you for your unsolicited advice.” Severus’ retorted doggedly.

Severus lifted the glass cautiously and took a long sip, draining enough of the wine for him to be able to carry it over easily. Then, he rounded the table and sat down, opposite to Remus. The dark eyes pierced Remus’, his face expression undecipherable. “I am still waiting for your accusations, Lupin, and I do not have all the time in the world for them.”

“There will be none.”

Severus tilted his head towards him in disbelief. “What?”

“I am asking, not interrogating you.” Remus told him solemnly. “I saw the map and I can smell blood, probably from your clothes, so I’ve got quite solid assumptions, so to say. I want to know what exactly happened. Why it happened. But I am not your judge, Severus. I’m pretty sure you have a conscience for that.”

_Since you definitely do possess one, if your behaviour every time something happens is anything to base on._

“Ask then.” Severus permitted brusquely, then took another gulp from his glass.

“Was it werewolf?”

A curt nod had to suffice him for an answer.

Then the reasons were clear, at least – the assault against the Forest’s werewolves turned into a manhunt when there were sightings of people getting out of the Forest and into Hogsmeade, despite the barrier.

Remus had no idea whether the response to his next question would give him anything – Severus could easily lie to him, after all, but he tried nevertheless. “Did you torture him?”

“ **I** didn’t. Macnair had done it for me. I treated him like a human.”

The highly unsettling implication of that sentence – that a werewolf was not one – almost missed Remus, because Severus was clearly struggling to recall the scene calmly, by the nervous twitching of his fingers around the stem of the glass.

“I even gave him water, you know? The shock on his face.” Severus amended, swallowed hardly, then drank again. His glass was empty by the time he finished speaking, “—The curse that killed him was a painful one, however. I hardly had any option than to use it – they are all still breathing down my neck, cruelty-wise.”

Remus wasn’t finding out much that he hadn’t expected, but the reassurance in his suspicions was very much welcome.

Severus reached for the bottle again and Remus stopped him this time. He accioed it to himself and, to Severus’ incredulous, brow-raised annoyance, said firmly, “No. You can manage without that.”

“You cannot know that, Lupin.” Severus’ wand slipped from the pocket in his sleeve and into his hand. Remus grasped the bottle tighter.

“What is it you’re currently trying to wash down, if you’ve treated him humanly?” he asked Severus, a tad too belligerently, and the black wand pointed towards him instantly, a faint purple spark spilling from its tip.

_Are we really going to duel over you being a recurrent-alcoholic? Out of all the things?_

But Severus didn’t cast a spell. He just stared pointedly at Remus, then, suddenly, spoke. His voice was unbelievably silky. “See, Lupin, there lies the problem – you hear I treated him ‘like a human’ – and think ‘humanly’ or ‘well’. Treated him like you, perhaps—” There either was a ‘would’ missing in the last sentence (Remus hoped) or it was more worrying than it should have been.

Severus made a gesture of raising his glass to his mouth, then remembered it was empty and put it back before him again. His wand, eyed by Remus now more warily than ever, was still ready to strike.

“Let me explain myself fully, then. I did not torture the man, not physically – well, apart from crushing his hand with my heel, anyways – but that does not mean I did not mistreat him. I tried to treat him best I possibly could, given the circumstances—“ a wry smile quivered in the corner of his mouth, “—but you know what happened, Lupin? He angered me—” There was something terrifying about the way Severus said those words – as if they were, largely, recognised as a death sentence.

He wasn’t looking at Remus anymore, but somewhere over his head, in the direction of the office’s wall. “He, Claude, called me liar and the others’ equal. And guess what I did to disprove it, Lupin?—“ Severus snorted bitterly, “—I did exactly what they would have done in my place. So I invaded his mind and made him feel his pain again and again, that way. I have promised to soothe it, before, but of course that opportunity was lost for him. When I found what I needed, I got out, telling him his son was first to go—“ Severus stared straight at him now, a vein throbbing in his temple, thin lips still arched slightly. _Is this some sort of a threat?_ – the anxious thought shot like a comet through Remus’ mind. “—Then I killed him, as you had probably noticed, a rather quick, though painful death.”

Remus observed him silently, frozen, letting him snatch the bottle out of his hand, then fill the glass and drink a half of it. “Satisfied with your answers?” Severus paused, tracing the movement of his finger around the rim of the glass scrupulously for a moment.

Remus didn’t respond, mulling over how to reply to the confession.

_You still are a murderer. A murderer of so-called my kind. And a cruel one, even if one who regrets what he’d done. How am I supposed to reconcile that with all else I have seen of you?_

Severus, perhaps bothered with the lack of reaction, moved his gaze from the blood-coloured liquid and finally meet Remus’ eyes again. “Do you still believe I can manage, Lupin?” he wondered acrimoniously.

Remus took a deep breath. “I do, actually.”

Severus shot him a raised-brow glance of patronising incredulity, but said nothing, waiting for some sort of an explanation.

“You wouldn’t have told me all that, if it wasn’t bothering you in some way—” Remus wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to convince about that. “Fuck, a few months ago you’d probably have snapped and started saying something about me and that Claude being creatures, if I even asked, just to hush me up. But you didn’t. You’re sorry for what you’ve done, from what I can tell. Which means you’re not completely lost yet, or anymore, whatever the perspective. But you get off from having power over people, the power of life and death too, apparently, at least when it’s en- not dis-couraged. Instead of running away from the aftermath of it—“ he almost unwittingly pointed to the wineglass, “—you should face it and fix it completely.” Remus said all that, mildly (though with conviction) and then realised, belatedly, what he was doing – offending a murderer at whose mercy he still was. His hand, for a while now lying quite limply on the table on his wand, automatically tightened its grip around it.

After another prolonged silence, in which only the sound of Severus’ swallowing the wine was audible, the murderer looked at Remus calmly, putting his (now again empty) glass onto the dark surface of the table. “You would think I live in your, and Frankie’s, chambers, not the other way round.” he sighed despondently. “Do this, don’t do that—” Severus continued, standing up from his seat. “It is not as easy as it sounds, Remus.”

With those words, he headed back for his office.

That was the first time Severus ever, in the over a quarter of the century that they had known each other, referred to him with his first name.

Remus was left puzzled by that and still quite horrified (despite how peaceful he had sounded before) about Severus’ deed from earlier that evening, so he decided to make himself some tea. This called for more lemon balm, definitely.

\---

His whole surroundings were engulfed in shadows. It took Remus’ eyes a little while to adjust to the limited light, which poured inside through the cracks in the boarded windows. The darkness wasn’t completely cavernous, it just gave everything a cold, greyish hue. He looked around the place – it was a deserted and dishevelled room, which seemed strangely _familiar._

_The Shack. I’m in the Shrieking Shack._

The cool air crept right under Remus’ skin, biting at the cuts he now noted were covering his bare arms and neck. When he tried to move his wrists, he realised that he was tied. He looked around frantically, but he was alone.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching, swift, soft ones, of someone who was carefully avoiding the planks on the floor that would creak loudly – thus had to be familiar with the place.

Remus couldn’t see the intruder yet and by the pace he couldn’t be entirely sure, but he took a deep breath trying to identify them based on smell. The dust filled his nostrils and he couldn’t quell a sneeze. The noise made the intruder stop before they’d emerge on the threshold for him to see. Remus however, achieved what he wanted – he distinguished the two scents he knew well. One of them was made up of sassafras, some other herbs and probably dragon blood, thus had to belong to Severus. The other one was of talcum powder, apples and just indescribably – like a baby, so it was doubtlessly Teddy’s.

Severus cautiously entered the room, holding the child and pointing his wand in Remus’ direction with his other hand.

Remus instantly realised that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Up to that point he had assumed that this arrival meant he’d be freed from the ropes, whoever had put them on him, but now that he actually saw Snape, he realised he was mistaken.

Severus was holding the child by the scruff of his neck – _like a bird would its prey_ – and Remus felt the blood course through him faster. He raised his eyes from the grasp Snape’s claw-like fingers had on Teddy and up to the man’s face. Severus’ features were contorted by a grimace of pure hatred which he had seen once before, in this exact place.

Remus watched him, horror-struck, at a loss at what was going on.

Severus set Teddy onto the broken bed. The child wasn’t crying, as Remus could now notice, just looking from one of them to the other, completely disoriented and scared.

Remus’ brain was working with all of its might, trying to work out what was to happen to him, what in the seven hells had hit Snape that he changed so suddenly and why Teddy was here.

He had been sure, so naively sure, that at least Teddy was always safe.

“Why?” he finally coughed out, when Severus took a few steps towards him. He now stood very close, checking the force of the binds by wrenching them with his wand, as if to make them more loose.

“Because you have abused my hospitality, Remus.” Severus whispered silkily on the level of his ear. “Because you **angered me**.” With that as all his explanation, Snape strode towards the exit.

“Severus, wait!” Remus couldn’t let him leave. Definitely not with Teddy stranded here, in this non-existent place.

Severus halted at that exclaim, then he turned around to Remus incredibly slowly. It felt like eternity before he spoke. “Yes?”

“Teddy.” Remus said, more shakily than he had intended. “Whatever I did, leave me here, to die even, but Teddy, take Teddy back. Please take Teddy back.”

“Take Teddy back, huh?” Severus asked in a mocking tone, amusement in the form of a cruel smirk dancing on his lips. “And you are not afraid I’d hurt him, or **it** , as I may?”

So that was it – he had offended him again and though he now had no idea what he had said, Remus wondered if that had something to do with that werewolf he had observed dying on the Map a few days ago.

“You wouldn’t.” Remus said simply. He wasn’t sure he believed that anymore – after all, he had trusted that Severus would never hurt him either, and what had that brought.

Severus looked at him solemnly. “ **I** , indeed, wouldn’t. And I will not—“ he asserted. Remus took a breath of relief. Then, in a split-second, a malicious grin appeared on Severus’ face again, crushing all his hopes. “You will.” He shot one last vile look at him, then at Teddy, and disappeared in the black chasm of the tunnel, closing the door thoroughly after himself.

It dawned on Remus what was to happen mere moments before it began.

A paroxysm of the wolf trying to get out surged through his body, then another and though he tried to force it back, he knew those efforts were doomed to failure. Teddy started crying, seeing that there was something painful going on with his dad.

In a few seconds, Remus was a beast.

The transformation alone had made the ropes either break or fall off of him as he changed shape, so now all he had to do was to slip out of them. He did just so, then shook like a dog getting out of water. He growled at the scent of humans in the air, then looked around, finally stopping when he noticed the human child.

Then Remus, somehow at the same time perfectly aware that it was Teddy – as if he was on Wolfsbane – and unable to control himself in the slightest, lunged towards the boy.

When he saw Remus’ snout with barred teeth next to him, Teddy shrieked in his high, baby voice, in a way he had never heard before. The child’s now grey eyes were wide with terror, the chubby little face blenched. He tried to edge away from the beast, clumsily crawling backwards on the bed. Remus put his paws on the mattress, checking if the surface was solid enough, then leaped after him.

With one accurate bite to the neck, he immobilized him, once and for all. Blood from Teddy’s neck artery sprinkled over Remus’ snout as his baby features stilled slowly before him.

Remus woke up to the sound of his own scream.

For a moment he didn’t know where he was or what he was, still feeling the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. He had bitten it, as it turned out, and it most definitely was a human tongue.

He realised his body had lurched upwards and fell back, until his neck, covered with cold sweat, met the surface of a pillow again.

The real Severus Snape was rolling over on his, very distant, side of the bed to face him. He was holding his wand, Lumos shining brightly at both of them. “You are Remus Lupin. You are at home, safe – well, as much as you can be, anyways. Whatever happened was just a nightmare–” he recited as a formulary, his voice without a trace of sleepiness.

It took Remus a moment to gather his wits.

He looked up to see the canopy, sea-green in the gleam coming from Severus’ wand. He wasn’t in the Shack, he was in the Headmaster’s Chambers of Hogwarts, in his current home, in the bedroom. Everything was fine. He heard Teddy’s breathing coming from his left. He glanced at Severus’ deadpan in the blue light. Snape looked wide awake, but also doubtlessly not set on making Remus kill his own child.

 _Nothing happened, Severus isn’t trying to hurt me or Teddy. He wouldn’t. I did not transform, it’s not even Full Moon today._ – he repeated to himself a few times.

Severus, still looking at him observantly with an expression that probably was meant to calm him down, based on the lack of a derisive smirk, continued, “Also - you are not a wolf, currently, and I am most definitely not doing whatever I did in your nightmare.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Remus asked, despite himself. Though, on the other hand – the verbal ping-pong was grounding, reminding him that Snape was not the monster he had imagined, just the sarcastic prick with little to no tact that he had been before.

“Well, you might have growled—“ Severus drawled with irony, “—and even though that was the case, I was not the one to ask the bed to keep us literal miles away. Which is saying something.”

“Oh, right, the damned bed.” Remus sighed exasperatedly. It still was a wild guess on Severus’ side though – after all, Remus could have simply not wanted to be close to anyone after or during a nightmare, it didn’t have to be him, personally.

 _Well, perhaps he had read that from my head._ That wasn’t exactly a comforting thought, but it was at least an explanation.

In this moment Teddy started crying, as if to assure Remus that he was here and very much alive.

“Exactly.” Severus said, moving towards the edge of the bed to stand up to Teddy. Remus tried to do the same, but he noticed it and stopped him, “You look like you have seen a Boggart, Lupin. You’ll just scare the kid.”

It wasn’t too strong of an argument, but Remus fell back onto the pillows, hoisting himself up on his elbows and settling instead for watching Severus take care of the child. He hadn’t really observed him during ‘the night shift’ of it, ever since that first time at Spinner’s – usually the auditory confirmation that everything was fine was enough for Remus. Now, however, he absolutely had to see the child.

Severus wordlessly put down the light in his wand and slid it back into the pocket in his sleeve. Even his nightshirt had that adjustment, it seemed. Remus now wondered if his did too, then, and his fingers rumpled the hem of his sleeve in search for it, but with no result.

He blinked a few times to get used to the darkness and before his eyes refocused, he heard Severus whisper to the child, placatingly, “There, there, dad is just finally taking his revenge on you for disrupting his sleep, Teddy, but apart from that, all is fine.”

“Hey—“ Remus protested weakly.

“What?” Severus turned his head to him. Teddy was in his arms, though still crying. “Next time I dare you to wake up Frankie too, why stop on us two—“ he added, with what (though even for Remus it was to work that out in the darkness, which was probably exactly why it showed itself) must have been a grin.

“Okay then, how many galleons do you bet that I will?” Remus asked with a smile of his own. The sound-proof wall was impenetrable, but who said he couldn’t order Frankie to sleep in the kitchen?

“Gambling!” Severus exclaimed with feigned outrage, though still in a stage whisper. “What example are you setting for your child, Lupin?” He asked, cuddling Teddy closer to himself. The child wasn’t stilling, so Severus looked at him appraisingly for a moment with a frown, probably trying to deduce what the problem was, then muttered to himself “Damned teeth.”

“Swearing!” Remus mimicked his tone from earlier, “—And you dare say that **I’m** the bad example?!”

“Nowhere did I say that I am impeccable.” Severus huffed. Swiftly, though in very steady steps, he went around the bed and to the kitchen, traced by Remus’ eyes until he disappeared behind the door, left just slightly ajar.

He returned with Teddy already sucking at a bottle, the glimmering potion for his teething frothing inside it. Once the child was done drinking the medicine, Severus took away the bottle. “Fine now, Edward?” he asked him.

Teddy clearly was already feeling much better, because in response he babbled something and tried to grab his nose. That was one of his favourite activities whenever in Severus’ embrace, from what Remus had observed (mostly without Snape’s knowledge that he was doing so). Severus scowled, visibly even from Remus’ position, and Teddy laughed, still crowing.

They were standing just next to the cradle now, but Severus didn’t put him back into it yet. Instead, he spoke towards the bed, “Want to apologise for waking him up, Remus?”

_Severus, hugging a child, being considerate and then even not calling me ‘Lupin’ for good measure. Merlin, has hell frozen over._

Apparently Severus had decided that he was calm enough now and Remus was very grateful for that offer. Being able to hug Teddy, to completely assure that he was fine, was something he definitely needed.

“I’d very much like to.” Remus confirmed, reaching out for Teddy as Severus advanced towards the left side of the bed, putting the child into his arms. Then, he left for a moment, probably to put away the bottle.

When Severus returned, closing the door behind himself delicately, Teddy was sitting on the duvet on Remus’ lap, leaning against him and had just began rubbing his eyes with his fists. Before Remus began to lift him up, so that he could scramble out of the bed, Severus was already standing by the edge of it, waiting for Remus to hand him the child. Remus kissed Teddy on the forehead goodnight and held him up. Then, Severus leaned down to them, the hems of his flowy sleeves brushing against Remus’ skin and Teddy’s, as well, apparently tickling the child, judging by another outburst of giggling and cooing on his side. This time Teddy settled with it much faster however, already sleepily shutting his eyes by the time he was back in Severus’ arms.

“Thank you, Severus.” Remus said. The “for everything” was supposed to remain silent, but must have treacherously crept into the tone of his voice.

Severus’ brow pursed disapprovingly. “More maudlin, Lupin, nausea is just what we all need—” he sneered, before turning his face back again at Teddy.

Next Severus bent over the guardrail and lowered Teddy into the cradle, tucking him with the silver blanket. Then he reached for a yellowish shape at the end on the kid’s mattress - Teddy must have kicked his duck away. The child didn’t try to grab his toy, probably due to drowsiness. Either way, Severus put it next to Teddy’s pillow, said “Goodnight Teddy.”, his voice sinking to the verge of audibility ( _Is he trying not to be heard? Because then maybe I should tell him that his attempts are doomed to failure..._ ), and only then straightened up again.

Remus slid down from his half-sitting position; Severus, meanwhile, circled the bed to his side, now not so far away as he was a mere moment ago.

“’Night, Remus.” he said, lying down, “And if you plan on rousing in the middle of it again, it’s 10 galleons from me.”

Remus snickered quietly, stifling it for the sake of Teddy’s undisturbed sleep. “The bet is on, then.”

It only tardily occurred to him, in his slight sleepiness, that he actually had absolutely no money in his possession whatsoever, though Severus was perfectly mindful of that. That realisation however, carried another thought, in the tidal wave so usual for Remus’ anxious mind at times. “Severus—“ he began, making the other man freeze in his attempt to roll to the side.

“Yes?”

“Did you look through my mind for the nightmare thing? Because your version was a little far-fetched, to be honest. If you’re using Legilimency on me, I’d rather know, even if post-factum.”

He’d have realised if had he been awake, probably, but it was a whole other thing when not, and Severus was likely able to use this skill without eye-contact well enough to do that.

“I have told you the truth already.” Severus exhaled loudly, rising on his forearm, so that he and Remus, who had a heap of pillows borrowed from the transformation room under his head, were on the same level. “I guessed. I am fully aware that I can make a good monster, Remus. Even for well grown-ups.”

Remus recalled his nightmare. Somehow he didn’t even find it embarrassing that he had one.

It was himself that scared him most, as usual, but Severus was very realistic in it, indeed. He had the cold smirk that did not faze Remus when they were in the kitchen in daylight, but was quite menacing years ago, when he threatened to kill Sirius. It also did bring to his mind the things one could hear whispered about Snape in the Burrow or at Grimmauld.

Besides, lately Remus’ perspective on just how much of the first-war Death Eater had survived in Snape to this day was broadening, and unsettlingly so. He still had in mind what had happened to that werewolf, unable to forget it (even though since then Severus had not once even snapped at Remus personally, much less – made him feel endangered).

There was no denying it - _he does, sometimes. Whatever I say now will be wrong, won’t it?_

“I...” Remus stammered awkwardly. ‘I don’t think you’re one’ had an awfully insincere ring to it, especially when Remus’ subconscious had just proven to both of them that he did.

“I do.” Severus insisted, the black eyes boring tunnels in the air between them. “Please spare me the sugar-coating, Remus. I am, even.” He paused for a breath, then continued, his low voice deadly serious. “Which is not to say I am ever intentionally going to play the part. Especially not towards you two.”

Remus wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

He knew he was supposed to feel reassured and, surprisingly, he did. However, he was also currently considering whether he or Severus was more of a monster, definition-wise. He had a suspicion that a remark of this kind could go very badly with Severus, but the two onyxes were still awaiting an answer, the closeness combined with this demanding gaze suddenly making Remus feel uncomfortable. Well, maybe not closeness per se, because the gap was much longer than arm’s length, but nevertheless...

“Then it makes the two of us. Monsters, I mean.” Remus blurted out finally. He surveyed Severus as carefully as he could in the darkness, hoping to be able to smother a fiery fit of rage at the comparison if one was coming, but there was no evidence it would.

Severus frowned thoughtfully, considering the matter. “Perhaps. Though currently my kind of monster hunts down yours—“ he caught himself in the middle of that sentence and then cut it short.

As was in his custom, Severus, having said something deeply disconcerting, gracelessly tried to recover himself, this time pausing for a moment as if to catch the train of his thoughts. In the end he gave up, said “’Night.” again and turned away, looking almost offended.

 _Typical_ – Remus noted forbearingly. He somehow always had more patience for this type of behaviour, when he had just seen or heard Severus taking care of Teddy.

“Goodnight, Severus.” he said softly, turning to his own side.


	8. The Holidays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Self-indulgent author's note this time:** Okay, I'm back, and the next chapter's def coming out in a week. And yes, it'll be Christmassy.  
>  Let's agree that muggle psychology of children's memory doesn't apply to wizards (I know that it didn't to Harry because he was a Horcrux, but whatever), because I need it for Teddy POV, so fight me people with a degree. 

Time was still an entity Teddy couldn’t quite grasp. In that it differed from everything else, because Teddy was now at the stage where everything was grabable, even if Dad, Hawk and Someone all thought otherwise. One thing Teddy knew about time, was that he had been in the Hogh-qortz home for very long – longer than in any other home so far.

A few things had changed in that time.

Dad was no longer so uncomfortable to lay one’s head on. The hard things in his shoulders weren’t digging into Teddy’s cheek painfully anymore. He did, however, have a whole lot of prickly hair on his chin now. When Dad kissed him goodnight, Teddy was quite sure he was leaving scratches all over his cheeks, but he liked that either way.

Teddy found everything Dad was doing with his magic stick fascinating, whether it was making the ‘don’t touch that, Teddy’ cut the apples or conjuring strings of light, which would turn into little golden birds, then disappear.

Dad’s eyes were still very sad sometimes (in light they glistened like a lake). Yet, he wasn’t as morose as before, or as Dragon-Boy used to be.

Dragon-Boy, meanwhile, sometimes came to Teddy here. He visited him in ‘Hawk’s office’, because Teddy was there, in the cradle, every now and then. Sometimes that meant that Dad was sleeping. Then, when Hawk returned with Teddy, Dad would have the untouchable black thing in his hand and a brown sweet bar called ‘shoklet’ in the other. Sometimes it didn’t mean anything, at least as far as Teddy could tell – just that he would be able to watch Hawk writing things until Someone would take him out for a walk.

Dragon-Boy had lost the downward lines around his mouth and the shadows under his eyes, so Teddy deduced that he wasn’t so sad anymore. Teddy was very happy for that change. The Boy had a really nice laugh, which always left him wondering (for a short moment until anything else happened) why he didn’t laugh more.

The Boy and Hawk seemed to like each other. Teddy thought he knew why – both of them wore a lot of black (more flowy than what Dad did) and didn’t like showing that they smiled or laughed.

Dad, on the other hand, smiled a lot and Teddy loved to see that, though sometimes he felt like his grin didn’t really mean what it was supposed to. Maybe Dad wasn’t as joyful as he seemed like.

He sometimes turned very despondent and the littlest thing could bring that on. Once it was a big piece of the rustling, nice-smelling thing (called ‘pawchmynt’), which Teddy knew he kept in the ‘sleeping-room table’. Even other, smaller pieces of pawchmynt, on which Dad was drawing lines with a bird-feather or a small black stick he called ‘coal’ held that power too. Usually, they made him smile sincerely, with his eyes too, but sometimes, they turned the eyes glazed, like the lake was…

One day Teddy saw a colour on one of the blocks he was playing with under the watchful eye of Dad. It was a light-pink one and Teddy thought it really pretty. That colour was one of the few things that could dredge up the memory of the Duck from his mind.

As sometimes happened, only lately more often on purpose, that changed something about Teddy. This time, he didn’t grow a beak and he didn’t make anyone chortle either. Dad saw him and his eyes got all wet, so he turned away, to then face him with a smile. Teddy didn’t believe that smile, not even a little bit. He didn’t know exactly what had been altered, but, based on how Someone later acted, he figured it had to do with his ‘hair’. Dad, meanwhile, told Someone to “leave him alone”.

It was then that it crossed Teddy’s mind that Dad missed the Duck. Teddy sometimes missed her too. However, he probably wouldn’t be able to recognise her now, only vaguely remembering her features. Well, he did remember the beak. Dad, Teddy guessed, recalled her better and thus was less easily consoled in his longing than he was.

Back then, Someone took Teddy for a moment and Dad disappeared into the sleeping-room. Then, there was no sound coming from there, which was quite odd. Teddy regretted that there was no Hawk around – he knew that Hawk would have brought Dad the dark untouchable thing and said nothing. That was what he did whenever he managed to notice that Dad’s eyes looked like the lake in Hogh-qortz. This would make the lines on Dad’s face a little less downward and his eyes drier, that Teddy had learnt too.

The presence of a live bird was another change, though Teddy rarely could play with it. Aja wasn’t at home a lot. Whenever he was, Teddy was very busy trying to catch and hug him, most often imitating him to lure him in. Aja was going on trips, Teddy knew. Sometimes he returned smelling of wetness and very irritated-looking, sometimes – of something from the Big House. Sometimes he carried other, unidentified scents. Teddy was never allowed to touch him immediately after his arrival. Always either Dad’s or Hawk’s magic stick would swirl in the air around the bird first. It was just like after playing when the stick would be held over Teddy’s hands, making them tingle slightly. This odd procedure took time, so the scents evaporated from Aja’s feathers meanwhile and Teddy couldn’t properly check what they were.

Thanks to that first occurrence with Aja, Teddy realised that he had an ability similar to what the magic sticks were doing to him. He could make people chortle. Or at least most of the time it worked like that, because it could also go wrong – like with Dad that one time.

Therefore, Teddy used his skill a lot. It worked on the Dragon-Boy at Hogh-qortz and usually did on Dad. It even worked on the Woman. He tested that on her while in the Big House with Hawk. Whenever he succeeded in making her laugh, it made Teddy remember Mother Dear (from before that last, scary day with her), and the Duck a bit, too, which was rather nice.

It turned out to work on the Hawk as well.

Once, Teddy was left with Someone and then the Man came into the home. It was different from when Hawk met with the Man in the Big House and for some reason bothered Teddy much more. This was home, after all, what was the (bad) Man doing here?

Teddy was already whiny, because Dad had disappeared somewhere after telling him “I’ll be back in a few hours.” The Man’s visit didn’t help that state of things, obviously. Someone, however, managed to lay him down for a nap and soon after Teddy woke up, the Man was leaving. Next, Someone carried Teddy into the home – they spun straight into the sleeping-room.

Hawk was there. He didn’t have his black bat-like disguise on yet and was buttoning up the collar of his shirt when they appeared. From what Teddy could tell even from far away, he was smelling of the Man. When Hawk raised his gaze at them, Teddy saw that his face was contorted with fury. He wondered if being mean somehow transferred from the man to him, along with the scent. Hawk even yelled at Someone, “Why are you here unsummoned?!”, which shocked Teddy greatly, because Hawk was always so careful not to shout around him.

Indeed, when he noticed his slightly scared face, he stopped snapping instantly. “Excuse me, Teddy.” he said softly. Then, he whirled his magic stick pointing at himself and mumbled some words Teddy was quite sure he’d already heard. When he turned to Someone again, his voice was still stern, though quieter now. “Do not, **ever again** , come in before I call you. Understood?”

Someone nodded eagerly (Teddy felt her beak hooking against his clothes as she did that).

When Hawk was already in his black thingy, Someone handed Teddy to him and then disappeared. Now, very peculiarly, the Hawk wasn’t smelling of the Man anymore. He wasn’t smelling of anything, as far as Teddy could tell, with his head against Hawk’s hard chest. And he didn’t look mad anymore either. If anything – he looked grim. It was a little bit like the Dragon-Boy’s expression sometimes, if Teddy was to compare. Hawk then rocked him in his arms, looking not at Teddy, but at the window.

Teddy wondered where Dad was. He knew he’d be able to help with this. Hawk sometimes was like that after he returned from the ‘office’ and if Dad would talk then, Hawk’s mouth would turn itself into an askew line and his eyes would get less hollow. But, since there was no Dad around, Teddy took the matters into his own little hands. He decided it could help if he made his hair and eyes look like Hawk’s. Maybe he could even imitate the beak a tad?

His plan must have succeeded, because when Hawk looked down onto him, before he headed towards the wall (which sometimes had a door in it, sometimes not), he snorted heartily. In return, he tickled Teddy until he lost focus on his own appearance, starting to laugh too.

Teddy used that trick later as well, because Hawk’s smile still looked funny to him, though it was becoming less unusual to catch a glimpse of it. Being tickled didn’t seem like a punishment at all (though Hawk was murmuring something about that). A few times something like that happened when Dad was around, which Teddy could tell by the smells. Hawk, however, didn’t seem mindful of Dad’s presence.

On one occasion, when Dad walked in on those shenanigans, he jostled something and made a noise. Teddy was currently trying to grab Hawk’s beak, while his stick-like fingers tickled his feet. The second Hawk realised that Dad was in the room, his face turned quite red. So did Dad’s, Teddy noticed, though Dad did not scowl. Hawk’s grin disappeared almost instantly and that made Teddy chortle even more. Then, it momentarily returned, quivering on Hawk’s lip. Only after all traces of the smile had faded away, did Hawk turn to acknowledge Dad’s presence.

Sometimes it was Hawk who entered the room unnoticed (or so he thought – because Teddy was pretty sure Dad could tell such things just as well as he could). When he saw, for example, Dad tossing Teddy into the air, he would smile a little. That grin always disappeared when Dad would be able to see it.

Teddy found it sort of funny that Hawk was trying to hide being happy just as much as Dad was trying to hide being sad.

The two of them, Teddy noticed, changed too – they were talking to each other more, especially when Aja was in the home. There were fewer odd silences, when either Dad or Hawk (or both) would be looking a bit scary, making Teddy feel a little less safe than the usual.

He was also now going on walks with Hawk. At first Teddy was a little cranky and cried, because he wanted Dad to go too. Hawk kept making faces at him (the scary ones and the funny ones that were his versions of smiles) until he stopped.

The walks were different than the ones with Someone. Hawk seemed to be avoiding the scary tall people even more than she did. If he saw one, even far away, he immediately changed the course. On top of that, he chose other routes, emptier and different than Someone’s. She never ventured outside the paths on which the smaller, not-so-scary people sometimes appeared.

They were walking around the lake in Hogh-qortz. And to the big construction made of sticks that had hoops on them. And through a path between trees, along which Hawk sometimes halted to pat nothing.

Hawk wore something around his neck on the walks, a long black thing, which made it more comfy for Teddy to be in the carrier against his chest (though Hawk too was less stick-like, as of late). Teddy had a thing like that as well, it was one of his ‘clothes’ – a big part of the walks was putting them all on. Usually, Dad took care of that. He wrapped Teddy in layers of soft things to finally add the neck-cloth and something for his head. Then, Teddy would be very warm and Dad would sometimes tickle his nose and cheeks, before handing him to Hawk so that they could leave.

Outside, there were many fascinating things. There was wind and cold and sometimes droplets of water were falling onto them, but then Hawk would wave the magic stick and they weren’t anymore. There were trees and buildings, and the lake, which glistened in the sun or moonlight in a watery way. There were also living things (sometimes even birds flew by!). The Hawk was telling him all about the things – he used many names, more than Someone would. Teddy had a hard time remembering them all, but he knew that repeated enough times they’d become easy. 

There were many changes happening there too. For instance, the big tree he had seen when Hawk first carried him outside the Hogh-qortz castle, didn’t have leaves anymore.

Then, one day, Teddy and Hawk went on a walk and everything was white.

The roofs of the small buildings that Hawk called ‘greenhouses’ were all covered with the white thing, which sparkled in the early morning sun. Teddy felt the air bite at his cheeks, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Besides, Dad had tucked him into the neck-cloth so thoroughly that he was almost buried in it. The other big tree, with thin branches which swirled around whenever anything went next to it, was now spattering heaps of white powder off itself. The same powder was also falling from the sky. When Hawk let him take the green ‘mitten’ off of his hand and reach outside the invisible dome above them, Teddy felt it land on his skin. It was very cold and, almost immediately after Teddy noticed how pretty it was, it disappeared, leaving just a droplet of water on his little palm.

Teddy looked at Hawk, puzzled (but very amused) and was informed that this was ‘snow’.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If Remus had an inkling before that Severus wasn’t as black (and grim) as he painted ( _or dressed..._ ) himself, then, as the end of December approached, that had turned into an absolute certainty. This was caused by Severus’ preparing Christmas for Teddy. Moreover, it was the kind of Christmas that Hogwarts was famous for, though limited to the Headmaster’s Chambers.

Well, as far as Remus knew, the tradition of a Christmas Dinner in the Great Hall was supposed to be continued too. However, as Severus jokingly stated “Those who had survived last year’s, are bound to tell the younger ones not to stay. Shockingly, the kids do not wish to spend their holidays in the presence of five Krampuses.” Therefore, very few students remained in the castle for the break. Even some of the old staff left, which Remus later observed on the Map.

On the 23rd of December, Remus walked into the kitchen in the morning to see that it was Christmas there already.

Frankie, with Teddy in her arms, was standing before a fir. It was placed next to the window, partly obscuring the view. Still, with the snow outside reflecting the sunbeams, the room was well over-lit. The tree was very tall, almost reaching the coping of the room, and already partly decorated. A silvery tinsel snaked around it and candles with flickering flames spiralled nearby, entrancing Teddy completely. There was also a wreath of holly above the door and, if Remus wasn’t mistaken, the ceiling was already bewitched for snow to fall. Currently there was none visible in the air, so it most likely needed an activating spell or would respond to the weather outside.

Severus was sitting at the table, scribbling something with concentration. Entering, Remus received a busy nod of acknowledgement from him. If he didn’t know better, he would assume the decorations had appeared there on their own, because neither then nor later, did Severus act like he had put a match to it.

There were also two books on decorative charms, which must have come from the school’s stocks, on the desk in the bedroom. They were awaiting Remus half an hour later, when he returned there after breakfast.

Together with Frankie and an impartial judge in the form of Teddy, Remus spent the rest of the day choosing which charms would suit the Chambers best. He didn’t add that much to what already had been prepared – only a few more faux-flame candles, sparkling baubles and a star for the tree and another snow-falling installation for above Teddy’s cradle.

As usual, Teddy was completely captivated by Remus’ magic that made all those things happen. In the arms of Frankie, he was following each of his efforts, gaping at them with his eyes wide. He was laughing both when they went like they were supposed to and when not – like when a shimmery silver star got out of control. Remus had made it to put it on the top of the Christmas tree, but it refused to position itself there, instead circling around like crazy. It seemed to have a mind of its own. Finally, Remus had to immobilise and banish it with a spell, when it tried to position itself on the tip of Frankie’s nose. He then tried again and this time succeeded and Teddy giggled even louder when the star landed on the treetop. This was still quite a good outcome, considering that he was a novice with all the complicated decorative spells.

All of this took almost the whole day.

On 24th, so, typically for himself – leaving quite little time for Remus to process it, Severus announced that, “Unless you object to it, Lupin, after I am done with the Dinner in the Hall, the three of us will have one here. So that the kid has a Christmas. And Frankie, you are invited, because I am fully aware that offends you.” He smirked at the elf.

Severus had been obliquely hinting at this for a week or so, thus Remus was prepared to hear this ‘invitation’ and he wasn’t too shocked for once.

Frankie, however, had a look of absolute indignation on her face. Now, she was probably readying herself to argue with her Master on the place of elves at the dinner table. She had gotten even bolder with time and quite quickly so. Yet, her tendencies to self-punish remained as firm as her beliefs that books and elf-leisure were the two worst plagues of the world. Her mouth was already open to reject the invitation, but her Master continued to speak. Him, she still didn’t dare shout over, though the matters would be a little different with Remus, who didn’t quite mind.

“—You will have duties to fulfil concerning unpacking Edward’s presents—“ Severus went on, assuaging the elf’s irritation. “—but that is tomorrow. Today however, I am assuming you will tire yourself out enough for the whole holidays. Here is the money.” He handed Frankie a moneybag, which must have been prearranged between the two, because she nodded with understanding.

Then, he turned to Remus, who was rather sure he was staring at him with lack of comprehension painted plainly on his face. “This is for Frankie’s Christmas shopping, under your orders, obviously—“ Severus explained somewhat impatiently. “—There are already some presents bought for Teddy.” Teddy, who was in Remus’ arms, tilted his head in interest on the mention of his name. “—Frankie was the go-between of those purchases, so she will tell you what not to buy. Food-wise the kitchens will provide, of course, though nothing sweet, because I have not suddenly changed my preferences after eighteen years.”

 _Well this is unexpected._ Maybe Remus should have foreseen that if they would be having a proper Christmas, Severus would let him buy something for Teddy, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind. On the other hand, Severus was still sometimes wildly swinging between hospitability (and friendliness) and slightly annoyed indifference. He was hard to make any predictions about.

Remus’ quite shocked “Thank you.” was partly jammed by the sound of the door closing behind Snape. He must have suddenly recalled he needed to take something from the bedroom.

When he returned, Remus repeated the words of thanks. They were completely ignored. Severus spoke over him in the tone of someone who was on the brink of forgetting what they were supposed to say, but managed to capture the thought in the very last moment. “And if you do not mind, I will be taking Teddy for a walk again today, if I manage to find the time.”

“Oh, I definitely mind that.” At first Severus must have missed the note of irony, because a glimpse of part shocked, part apologetic expression caught Remus’ eye. It was replaced with the deadpan quickly enough however, especially since Remus amended, more sarcastically, “—What an absolutely abhorrent thing, Severus, you acting considerate. Taking the child out for a walk! I’m not sure how I’ll be able to tolerate that. Really though, of course I don’t mind anything of what you’ve said so far. And thanks, again.”

On his last sentence, Severus shrugged, which, from what Remus had conjectured in the last few months was his most polite version of ‘You’re welcome’. It was followed closely in that classification by a slightly threatening “Don’t mention it.” and complete dissemblance. The other viable options varied from mocking to death threats, so Remus took what he could get.

Severus was putting on his cape now, therefore – leaving. While buttoning it to the robe, he threw in another important information, “On Saturday, as I have indicated, I am taking Teddy to the Manor. Around two o’clock, probably for six hours or so. Frankie is coming as well, because the rest of their elves could use some help.” The elf, who was currently cleaning the tabletop of the baby chair, shuddered visibly upon hearing that, though she tried to conceal it. “—So there is that – the Christmas plans.”

“Thanks for telling me in advance—“ Remus said sincerely. He was still very much against Malfoys. Yet, so far Teddy had always came out of the Manor unscathed and quite joyful, so he wasn’t afraid for his wellbeing. Besides, at least this part he had had time to adjust to. Now he was frantically trying to figure out what presents to tell Frankie to buy, having approximately eight hours until most shops would close.

Once he had finished talking, Severus exited the kitchen. He either couldn’t or (more likely) didn’t want to witness Remus’ reaction to the sum he had left him. It was no less than a hundred Galleons, all at his disposal. When Remus opened the small, enchanted money bag, he felt the need to yell at him, so maybe it was smart of Severus to have evacuated before that could take place.

Furious at the amount he’d been given and with no idea of what Frankie was to buy when basically everything was accounted for already, Remus sat down with a quill and a piece of paper. It took him almost three hours (with breaks for playing with Teddy) until he had completed the list. Then, finally, he could sent the elf on errand.

Not long after that, Severus returned.

First, he went to the laboratory. Using that time, Remus put Teddy in his warmest kid-robes, a green one-piece made of cotton, which had long sleeves and could be tucked into the boots. Then, he applied Teddy’s frost-protecting potion to his cheeks. Emerging from his haven, Severus took the baby from him. He helped Teddy put his little black coat and the mittens on, topping said outfit with the green scarf and hat. 

After that, they left quickly, so as not to make the kid too hot. The Chambers were now heated with the warmth of two fireplaces, which had emerged from the walls with the arrival of the colder days.

Since Frankie was still shopping, Remus was left alone for around half an hour. He already had his tea brewed, so it only necessitated a warming spell before he could drink it. Carrying the cup, he went to his observatory by the bedroom window with _“The Idiot”_.

To Severus’ scornful surprise about his “ridiculously slow pace of reading as for a former scholar”, he still hadn’t finished the book. He had, meanwhile, read the whole tome on wizarding fashion he started on the first day and went on to others from Albus’ collection (again, to Snape’s absolute displeasure). . He even finished _“Hindering”_ around October. Next, he got his hands on Severus’ Herbology books. Those, oddly enough, proved readable. He was now halfway through a _“Guide to toxic plants”_. It was a worn book, in which he had noticed scribbles appearing every week – usually in the form of crosses around the Latin names of the plants.

Nevertheless, the affairs of the small Russian town were tiring enough for him, that he only read about two to three chapters a week. Most of them were love-centred in one way or another, which wasn’t exactly motivating for Remus either. Reminding him of his loses was, sadly, not a difficult thing to do.

Besides, the book was long, at least the size of some of the magic textbooks, which for some reason Remus hadn’t expected from muggle fiction. His experience, either from living with muggles or from what his mother read, proved that. Not in Snape’s library, though. No, _of course_ his classics, muggle and wizard alike were 500 pages each. Those few, which were shorter than that looked incredibly thin on the shelves, crammed between the imposing tomes. Remus promised himself to chose one of these gaunter ones, for his next reading – for a change.

The current book was just an obvious jab, but a very long-winded one in that. However, if Severus thought he would have actually been offended, he was mistaken.

Supposedly, Remus was similar to the main character. That, honestly, he found quite flattering. The Idiot was simply a good-natured human; he failed to see what was wrong with that. The man wasn’t treated all to seriously by anyone around him, to which Remus, for some of his life, could have related to. He also had an illness that was frowned upon. There, the only difference was that his wasn’t dangerous to everyone around him. On top of that – he happened to be clumsy.

All of this created quite the parallel, to the point where Remus wondered just to which extent this was a coincidence caused by Severus’ wish to call him an idiot in an elaborate way. It could have also been an attempt at more thorough character judgement. However, if so, then Severus was a bit incorrect. The trusting nature brought to Remus’ mind James more than it did himself, but if he shared that opinion with Snape, the man would probably splutter himself to suffocation. He didn’t feel compelled to correct him in this mistake. It didn’t bother Remus to be called naive, of all things. The numerous doubts and suspicions he was constantly fighting off disproved such accusations easily.

Now Remus sat down to find out whether it was true that the Idiot was going to marry the girl he loved, or whether that was unfounded gossip. He nestled in the chair, a pillow behind his back. The book already open on his lap, he looked through the window just to absorb the winter scenery.

The sun, though slowly descending, was still shining brightly. Its light was enhanced by the numerous white surfaces around, glistening on trees’ branches and reflecting from snowdrifts. A white owl (for a split-second Remus thought it to be Harry’s) swept right next to the window. It dived down, to then head towards the distant, black-and-white outline of the Forbidden Forest. The Great Lake was still, covered thoroughly with an ice sheet. Apart from the bird that had just disappeared in the distance, the area was absolutely deserted – with the exception of two humans.

The all-black figure by the shore of the lake was definitely Severus. He was tilting his head at an odd angle, probably saying something to the small greenish shape he was carrying – Teddy.

Remus watched them for a moment. He rarely had the possibility to do that. Their walks often took place long after sundown or quite early in the morning. Then, the autumn or winter weather didn’t aid looking out through the window. Combined with Severus’ usual choice of paths, it made it hard for Remus to observe them. He wouldn’t want to do that all the time, of course, but sometimes he felt the need to be present, even though he couldn’t be so in flesh. When Frankie was taking Teddy outside, Remus told her where to go. He never chose a too conspicuous route, but usually one that he could see them on at least for a moment.

Severus was unlikely to allow him to dictate him his path, so Remus had never tried.

Now, however, he gave in to the temptation of surveying them two. The weather seemed pleasant and their silhouettes couldn’t be any more defined against all the whiteness around. Remus wished to be able to walk with Teddy on his own, to feel the blows of freezing wind biting his cheeks. Hell, to feel his feet and hands get awfully cold. Sadly, he couldn’t even have been there when his son saw snow for the first time in his life. _At least there was **someone** to show him that. _It was no small consolation, the more Remus thought of it.

Suddenly, an odd thing transpired.

At first Remus didn’t believe what he was seeing and blinked a few times. The picture was still clear as ever.

Next, came the doubt whether nobody else than Remus was watching it. It would certainly not compose well with the image Snape was trying to create of himself for his subordinates. Besides, though Remus wasn’t exactly up to date on all laws, this could still be illegal. However, knowing Severus, he probably had ascertained on those matters already. A moment late, Remus consulted the Map, finding out that in their current positions nobody in the castle would be able to peek. He also noted that the parchment had been moved to the other side of its drawer.

Then, Remus pinched himself, still not fully sure he was seeing what he was seeing. Not only was this an extremely rare ability, after all, but also – Severus was yet again ‘making a fool of himself’ as he would have deemed it. For the sake of Teddy.

Because Severus Snape was flying.

From what Remus could asses from this height and distance he wasn’t too far above the ground. However, he very obviously wasn’t standing in the snow anymore. Teddy, held above the level of Severus’ head, was flailing his hands – like wings. The two of them cast an odd, disfigured shadow on the snowdrifts below them.

With his absolute obsession with birds of all kinds, and with, well – being a kid, for whom even the mere height of a tall adult was already exhilarating, less alone hovering in the air, must have been absolutely overjoyed.

Suddenly, Severus turned in the air with a whirl of his cape. It fluttered wildly with the movement, indubitably making Teddy chortle.

He was now facing the window and, though that was absolutely impossible, Lupin.

Remus knew the glass on the other side wasn’t showing him, but an empty space of the room. Besides, he was a few levels above the ground. Since Severus was not more than five feet in the air, it would be hard for him to notice Remus, even if he was visible. Remus’ mind, however, was playing tricks with him. He really had the impression Severus looked straight at him. Therefore, this was the end of his lurking in the comfort of not being seen. He felt in the wrong – caught in the act of spying on their walk. Aware how much Severus hated being seen ‘acting soft’ around Teddy, Remus reached for the book again with a blush creeping to his cheeks.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The 25th of December came with gifts.

They had agreed, with Remus, that Teddy’s unpacking of said gifts would occur during dinner. Now they lay in a colourful green-and purple heap, which was almost completely hidden underneath the Christmas tree. When he was done giving Teddy his breakfast bottle (a tad later than the usual), Severus activated the bewitched ceiling over the tree. Presumably, it would guarantee the little imp hours of catching the snowflakes. The kid would have just his father to witness the surprise when he would discover that, unlike the ones outside, those weren’t cold and instead of melting, simply disappeared. Severus was needed elsewhere.

Upon leaving, he looked appraisingly at the room. _The_ _damned Christmas Spirit_ was radiating from it. Born within the scenery behind the window it floated into the Chambers. It was present in the impressive, after Lupin’s intervention – over-decorated, tree. It hovered with the candles aggravatingly swaying and spinning next to the wreath over the entrance. Everything screamed Christmas; Severus was wondering what had happened to him that he was not screaming in response.

_Albus would be delighted. And, more importantly, Edward is._

Severus definitely did feel the responsibility for taking care of Teddy and frankly – he was sure this only grew together with the kid.

Personally, he’d had too many masters, in every meaning of the word, none of whom came close to ‘caring’ and at some point of his life he hated each of them. Thus, he was left uncertain what to take for the ideal of care. As such, he followed a very simple guideline – not to be like his own father.

At times, he was miserably failing at that (though Tobias wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking wine, much less an enchanted one). Still, it seemed like a good tactic. Where his father definitely would have been yelling, he forced himself not to. Where he would have been absent – Severus wasn’t, though he had more justification for that than the drunkard ever did. Finally – where neither he nor Eileen would have been bothered to care, Severus did bother. Since unlike them, he had the resources to ‘waste’ on said caring, he wasted them generously. _Albus’ goddamned inheritance, after all._

The kid deserved a proper celebration, even though he would not remember this in the future. The type with numerous presents and decorations, and ‘an atmosphere’ of Christmas. Severus himself had known it solely from Albus’ endeavours to provide it to the Hogwarts’ students. It could also be seen and experienced at the Manor, at least back when Draco was little.

Hell, even goddamned _other Lupin_ did deserve proper Christmas – as a shell of normalcy in all the chaos. Remus seemed like the one to be all presents-and-cinnamon, Christmassy to a fault. Certainly, that was the case years ago, when he taught at Hogwarts.

Severus was able to recall that quite accurately.

Since the Full Moon was very close, Lupin made them all the favour of not attending the Christmas meal. Needless to say how absolutely ridiculous that sounded to Severus now. Now, that he had shared not only the dinner table, but, more shockingly, a bedroom and the bed itself with the werewolf, even as little as a day before (or after) the Full Moon.

 _Yet, miraculously, I am still alive and uninfected_. – he noted, almost with derision at his past self.

Currently, Severus lived in a cruel comedy of menace. It was taking its absurd punch lines directly from the Eaters’ jokes and had forced him to revaluate a lot of his convictions. He wasn’t even questioning the ludicrousness of it all anymore. Nevertheless, he did see it – in how he, who wouldn’t have shook the werewolf’s hand a week before Full Moon a few years ago, was now making an effort to share a Christmas dinner with him.

Come to think of it, perhaps the ‘current ludicrousness of it all’ was exactly the world’s vengeance on him for all that.

Either way, Lupin didn’t attend the feast during his year at Hogwarts. However, Severus remembered delivering him the potion on the Christmas evening. He found Lupin in his office, wearing an atrocity of a Christmas sweater over his shabby robes. The whole chamber smelled of spices, as if there had been an explosion of cinnamon and vanilla containers somewhere inside it. Severus had a great memory for detail. He remembered the reindeer on the hideous muggle tatter and the blue cover of the book Lupin was poring over. When he entered, Lupin put the book away onto a can of Honeydukes’ gingerbreads resting on his desktop. Yesterday, Frankie had been asked to buy a vivid red can like that, regardless of whether Remus himself would decide to spend the money on the sweets.

Since ‘the werewolf essay’, Lupin had abandoned his quest to befriend him or (more or less indirectly) covert him to applying some kind of a stress-less method of motivating hopeless dunderheads to learn. However, that had not made him any less overtly polite. Back then, he greeted Severus with a “Merry Christmas”.

He did not answer to that greeting, but – caught by surprise – forgot to glower at him. That, in turn, prompted the werewolf to offer him a gingerbread.

Because of course, Remus would be ‘like that’, as Severus had been assured countless of times since. Actually, he was rather thankful that there were no woolly rags with depictions of ungulates accessible to Lupin now.

Overall, Severus was sure that both the Lupins could use a Christmas. Hence why he had sentenced himself to one.

Although he wasn’t fully convinced about that, perhaps the aforementioned _damned spirit_ was smouldering somewhere deep inside him. If so, then it would be brutally smothered in a moment anyways.

He was headed downstairs, amongst the Christmas demons.

Hogwarts had an esteemed guest, who, luckily this time wasn’t Lucius; not that it actually improved anything much. Severus still had a role to play and the performance would be graded with points of probability of his survival. Yet, at least, he was spared a part of it. It was Corban who had decided to pop in to express his good wishes. At the opportunity, he was also intending to test the waters for the final hit at the Forest’s wolves. On top of that, Severus presumed he would take the body of the werewolf woman from the makeshift mortuary arranged in the hut, which used to be Hagrid’s.

Macnair and both Carrows were the ones who killed the woman, together with two of the permanently-wolfish werewolves. How big that pack was, nobody knew, though since the start of it all – six were down. Their attacks had lost in ferocity. Only two other happened around Hogsmeade in the last few months, both on the Full Moons. Neither was successful, so the feeling of urgency had dampened down. Yet, everybody was still tiptoeing around the wolves.

They had one great advantage over every other possible victim of the Eaters – the danger of biting. A werewolf’s bite was now, obviously, a death-sentence. Arguably, a worse one than if the beast had decided to finish the job. If this carnage had any ramification for the oppressors, it was this. The risk of being ‘just’ bitten was higher the more desperate the beasts were getting. They were mostly attacking to kill – but who could promise that? Although, of course, that option was not so enticing either.

Unlike their human counterparts, the Forest’s ones were never close to defenceless.

Those human counterparts, however, as far as Severus knew, were left just a few in the country. However, they were the ones who had avoided registering before, so it was just an estimation of Yaxley’s. One of them was probably currently in Severus’ kitchen, drinking his third tea of the day. Snape did his best to push that thought away while he went down the stairs and walked into the Great Hall. Another, according to the villagers, was still living in the Forest.

Severus knew the identity of the other Hogsmeade’s werewolf as well. It was Claude’s ‘son’.

Contrary to Severus’ ‘promise’ to the werewolf – it was the boy who was the last one standing.

Severus only occasionally wondered if Claude, wherever his soul went, was aware of that. Whether he had ever found out that Severus had, indeed, lied – as was in his custom – but about with the threat. The fate of his boy was not better than what Severus had told Claude, but certainly – different. Snape had never used the knowledge about the gap in the barrier. He left the boy and the woman an avenue of escape, even if that avenue led from death of starvation to one by a killing curse. He _did all I could have –_ as he had to reiterate to himself countless of times, lately.

This was a highly unsettling reflection, because it would mean Claude would also be mindful of his guilt.

Claude’s boy was still there somewhere. All he could hope for was that the forces of hunger and weather combined would finish him off. Freeze hit around November, not long after the father had been captured. It made tracing and defeating the woman easier as well. Severus wished the boy would reveal himself as she had done. She was roaming the outskirts of the village, assumedly – looking for food. If the son let himself be caught like that, then at least, he would receive a quick death and would not pose much danger to anyone.

Thinking about those jolly matters, Severus entered the Hall, in which his companions were settled at the staff table. Not a single representative of the old staff, nor any of the four students who were staying in the castle, was in sight. Severus didn’t blame them. Personally, he would trade _goddamned Lupin_ for both Avery and Yaxley. And those two he was on best terms with out of all the gathered; at least since Corban had swallowed the fact that their Lord’s trust in Snape was greater than the one in him.

Soon, they were done eating breakfast and ruthlessly joking about Dolohov’s inability to perform his tasks. Although the Dementors couldn’t complain about lack of new prisoners, he persistently failed in tracing anyone crucial for the case of destroying what opposition the Dark Lord had. With Avery and Yaxley at his side, Severus went on a murder-pre-empting stroll towards the edge of the Forest. If either of the two was swapped (with Malfoy or Mulciber, respectively), it _would feel like the old days._ Blood-curdlingly so.

Thankfully, the time went by fast and without anything unpleasant taking place. By the time of dinner, Severus’ odd feeling of discomfort, the root of which remained unclear to him, still hadn’t vanished. However, then he was able to assuage it with wine.

This time, the old guard was there. So were the children – three terrified Hufflepuffs, at least one of whom was there solely to support the others, judging by their words, and a lone Ravenclaw. Severus was positive the moment they were done eating, they would run to their respective Common Rooms. In all likelihood, they wouldn’t stick their noses out of them until the end of the break, unless to the library. Irma was uncharacteristically hospitable these days. At least that was so, whenever she wasn’t having her office hours as a deputy, which did not apply to the break.

Now she was sitting next to Severus, in her feather-decorated hat and robe, attempting to smile at the anxiously glancing Hufflepuffs. Pomona, to her right, was engulfed in a spirited (a little over-spirited to be entirely natural) discussion with Aurora and Poppy about some kind of skin potion. Supposedly, some 5th year had used it on himself, turning his complexion green. Severus had already said the curtest “Merry Christmas” the Hall had heard and was inattentively listening to Avery and Yaxley’s prattle about enchanted knives.

They were all acting civil. Yet, the division was painfully obvious – the line of the border between those who wished him to be Albus and those who either were or wished they were there when he killed him (to watch the old nidget fall), ran through Severus. Appropriately so, since he belonged on both its sides. The undeniable awkwardness caused by the presence of people who had literally fought each other, but were now co-workers, could only dissipate when one of the sides would leave. Severus was waiting for that.

He anticipated that the old guard, as less minded on draining Hogwarts’ stocks of wine and eggnog, would empty the Hall just after the students. He would be able to follow them shortly.

Irma and Poppy, who had since sat down closer to each other, were the last to excuse themselves. Then, just the Eaters were left and the conversation circled back quickly to the more confidential matters, which shouldn’t be overheard. They varied from what Yaxley was planning to change in terms of stalking the resistance to how packed the Azkaban prison was with ‘mud’. Severus wasn’t contributing too much and was sure they would be able to do without his presence at the table.

After another toast to the Dark Lord (Severus’ third goblet, and he refused another), he pushed his chair away from the table with the intention to stand up. This time he set on not letting Avery leer at his politeness. “Well then, I’ll be off. Do spare at least a single bottle from the cellars—” he said, in a rather discourteous tone.

“Already going, Severus?” Yaxley leaned back to better see him and enquired with authentic surprise. “Not drinking properly, excusing yourself early...—“ he continued, raising his eyebrow and looking around questioningly at the rest. “—Whatever’s up with him?”

The Carrows didn’t meet his asking gaze. Meanwhile, knowing smiles flitted through the faces of Macnair and Avery. Although they did not say a thing either, their interest in how this would unfold was obvious. Both had drunk enough for it to have kicked in.

Snape stood up and narrowed his eyes into slits. Count on Yaxley to be overly cordial or nosy even when the others daren’t. “I have responsibilities, Corban.”

“Such as?” His bushy dark brow rose even higher. He could be aware or just brashly assuming those responsibilities couldn’t be ones towards their Lord.

Severus sighed with disbelief at how dense he was acting, but decided to answer truthfully, “In this very case – the kid. I have one. May have escaped your notice.”

“Oh riiight—“ Yaxley drawled, sounding as if he actually had either not known or completely forgotten. The incredulousness his voice had been sagging with only increased. “—Excuse me then... dad.”

_As if you weren’t one._

Corban had two daughters, but somehow seemed to have forgotten that fact. If times of (relative) peace were changing anything in those people, it was clearly how short, or selective, their memory was.

Avery snickered quietly. The Carrows remained focused on their plates. Macnair however, had only needed to be spurred a little. “Do you have a woman or a kid, Headmaster?—“ he wondered jovially, though at least without omitting the title, as Severus noted. “—Cause if it was a vixen, I’d understand—“

“Walden, the mere fact that **you** don’t understand something, does not mean it cannot transpire or exist. Otherwise, I’m afraid most of the world would perish.” Severus said in response, striding towards the exit. He let his left arm twitch in a signalising manner, though without actually intending to reach for a wand.

“I retract my words on changes—“ he heard Corban say behind him. “—and pity the kid a tad.”

“Exactly. The same he’d always been. Fatherhood can only change so much.” Anthony replied, to what was most likely Macnair snorting while drinking from his goblet.

Severus didn’t even find it fit to react. He just wanted to be off already and with ‘his Eaters’ he could always get even later. He had given them a fascinating topic for conversation, it seemed. However, at least they were focusing on the contrast between him and their vision of a single father and not, say, on Edward’s ‘filthy’ genealogy. Besides – he was temporarily free of their presence, with which he tried to console himself as he ascended the staircase.


	9. The Dinner

Severus was apparently fated to dealing with badly masked smirks today, because that – a knowing grin Remus was purposefully failing to cover up, was what met him when he returned to the Chambers.

He had, of course, used the scent-banishing spell on himself not to smell of wine, so it couldn’t be that he was jeering at his weak will, but it was definitely something – Lupin’s eyes glimmered excitedly as he greeted him.

“Teddy’s still napping, so with that we’ll have to wait—“ he informed, while Severus was hanging up his cape, “—but I’ve got news. I mean – you’ve got, actually.”

“Have I?” Severus marvelled and looked around searchingly.

The table was set for a Christmas feast, with enough food on it to feed ten, less alone two people. The tablecloth was black, but had a silver pattern of snowflakes embroided into it – they were falling down both ways from the band in the middle. There were two plates and goblets positioned next to the head of the table, at opposite sides. Nearby the kid-chair between the two place settings, four smaller dishes were standing – with the portions specifically prepared for Teddy.

Severus’ eyes settled on the counter, where Lupin was standing. The sleeves of the silky robe he rarely wore cascaded over the countertops, almost diving into the sink – he must have been stopped by Severus’ entrance in starting the washing up.

After glancing at him, his eyes moved up and only then did he realise, that on one of the cupboards above a small black shadow was hiding – Ajax. A pleasant surprise, considering that the crow left almost five weeks ago and Severus had started expecting that he might have lost against the forces of nature. The winter this year turned out to be very severe, with fierce snowstorms every now and then, which could pose quite a danger to the feathery messenger. However, from the looks of it, Ajax returned unscathed – now, having been noticed by his master, he began joyously bobbing in place.

The bird had his door to the chambers in the low part of the kitchen window – it wasn’t visible from the outside and adjusted to the shape of the familiar magically. There was a similar one in the office – how Ajax knew which one to use at the time Severus wasn’t mindful of, but he was able to unmistakably sense the presence of his Master.

“I was right.” Lupin stated, no longer even attempting to hide his complacency, “Ajax brought a letter. From professor McGonagall, I presume. Though he wouldn’t let me take it from him, of course.”

 _Minerva finally responded._ Severus felt an infantile surge of excitation and, doing his best to suppress it, called out to the crow. Ajax obediently swooped down and hovered in the air just over the table, where Severus had taken a seat; the bird was, indeed, carrying an envelope.

Remus was still standing by the counter with a now not-so-enigmatic smile and with his head tilted curiously to view what the crow has brought.

Severus took the envelope from Ajax. It had been thoroughly splattered with snow and was very wet, literally coming apart under his fingers. He not so much slid, as tore, a card out of it.

At least this part of the shipment had been enchanted waterproof and therefore wasn’t ruined. The card pictured a Christmas tree ( _less impressive than the one we have here_ , Severus judged) against a navy, star-filled sky, with the typical wishes of ‘Merry Christmas’ above it, in cursive. However, nothing on it was moving or glittering. “Muggle card.” Severus assessed.

He turned it to the other side – it was almost empty, except from a short message written in blue ink, _“Merry Christmas, Traitor.”_

Severus sneered, rather mirthlessly, “All this effort, Ajax’s struggle against the weather, them risking being discovered with a tracing spell, just to try to offend me. How endearing.”

Remus shot him a questioning glance and leaned towards him, so Severus handed him the card. Lupin examined it with similar precision, though first focusing on the message, then perhaps looking for a hidden one, because he drew his wand and used a nonverbal spell.

“It is Weasley writing, and not George—“ Severus told him discouragingly. “—I highly doubt there would be anything hidden there, apart from resentment – though in disguising that, he failed miserably.”

Lupin didn’t seem to have heard him, still slouched a little over the card and now turning it in his hand.

Ajax, meanwhile, refused to return to his newly acquired nest above the kitchen (there was already a cloth there, arranged into a roll, _Lupin’s fault in some way, probably_ ) and kept standing between two plates, eying Severus urgently.

“What? The food is not for you. You may have a biscuit, however—“ Now the crow looked almost offended, if that was even conveyable with a beak. “—A piece of meat, if you insist.”

On the second proposition – Ajax skipped animatedly; Severus, as promised, reached for a knife and began cutting a slice for him. “This is cannibalism, Ajax, I hope you are aware of that—“ he said, levitating it straight to the bird’s beak.

The crow consumed it hurriedly, unashamed by the misdemeanour he was committing, but when he was done eating, he still remained in Severus’ proximity. Remus must have noticed that too, because he said, thoughtfully, “I think you might want to check the pouch. He’s not really good at the delivery part, are you, Ajax?”

“You may have a point.” Severus conceded, reaching for the crow’s leg and wondering why he hadn’t inspected that earlier. “You incompetent lump of feathers, do stay still—“ he instructed Ajax while untying the black, concealed pouch attached to his leg.

Lupin was right – the crow had been trying to draw his attention to the fact that he was still carrying a letter (though he definitely appreciated the reward he got all the same).

Severus took the minuscule bundle of the pouch. The crow flew away immediately, to then gaze at him from above with indignation apparent on his bird-features – this time, it seemed, the jab truly got to him.

Meanwhile, Severus’ wand vibrated with an alarm from the cradle. Remus’ must have too, since he now headed to the bedroom (possibly eager to get into a merry quarrel with Frankie, who certainly was there somewhere by the child). Severus didn’t stop him, currently busy with enlarging the parchment. He levered the seal with his nail and, with blue sparks of an enchantment blinding him for a moment, it opened. Then, he unfolded the letter and smoothened out the surface with his fingers. He saw the vivid blue ink again, though this time he couldn’t recognise the handwriting.

_8 th December_

_“PS_

_We are safe, all those who managed to escape._

_I so hope it truly is you writing; the wording is barely consonant with your typical one, hence why the suspiciousness, though of course that is understandable as a safety measure._

_C and M wanted to say thank you. I don’t know what would have happened to M if it was another. You have my eternal gratefulness that you helped us then._

_PM is in contact with us – they say they cannot communicate with you, because it would be too dangerous for their bird to appear anywhere near you, but they had been reporting to us what you had been sharing with them. We are all very much obliged – we need all the information we can get._

_PM also sends their regards and wants me to pass that they’re immensely grateful that it is not, for example, the minister, ruling over the castle (and that the siblings are no longer in their position)._

_As for our situation – we are currently only searching for asylum. Unfortunately, this proves harder than we had expected. If we manage to acquire it we will let you know, I suppose._

_It’s unlikely that any of them will read it, so I believe I can safely add, that, sadly, nobody here but me and C actually trusts you. PM certainly wants to, but the circumstances and your last encounter do not exactly speak in your favour. The rest mostly don’t. Honestly, that might even be an understatement, although I am sure they’ll come around sooner or later. Unluckily, the vial broke before we managed to use its contents, though it would be of no use here anyways; therefore, only that little account of the two of us testifies on your behalf._

_I have convinced them to let me write to you, as you can see, and PM even insisted that I did (they’re afraid that you will give up on writing soon, if there is no answer), but as for now I have been forbidden to share any critical information. Of course, the means of communication don’t exactly encourage exchanging confidential details either, though I am positive we can find ways of achieving that._

_All of the letters to PM have arrived, I believe (if they’re monthly and began in the month before when P had been born), so about that there is no need to worry. The one to us we just couldn’t have responded to earlier, for the aforementioned reasons combined with busyness of travelling._

_About the information, which we really have a very limited access to - we’d be especially grateful if you could tell us anything, literally anything, about him. It is as if he didn’t exist, which, honestly, is more worrying than I had ever presumed it would be._

_On a lighter note – you have a very bright bird, I must say I was impressed it even found us at all. It seems to have an odd liking for chocolate, though I don’t think that is very good for birds, so perhaps you should look into it._

_Thank you once again and have a merry Christmas, as least as much as that is possible nowadays._

_With hope that you are alive and well,  
G_

_Post Scriptum  
Do you have any information on N’s child? All of us are going out of our minds about that._

_Post Post Scriptum  
Two among our number hold nettle wine, three are killers, hidden in line.”_

Severus raised his eyes from the letter, noticing that Remus was now sitting opposite him, Teddy on his lap. Both Lupins had their hands stretched in his direction – one most likely to try to knock over the small silver bowl with cranberry sauce that stood next to him, the other – wordlessly asking for Severus to hand the parchment over to him.

Severus, however, took his time and skimmed over the letter again.

“I am not the only one owning forgery quills, from the looks of it. And Circe, is the girl shrewd! She even figured that you are the writer—” he commented, straightening the sheet of parchment again.

“What?” Remus’ benign smile turned into an expression of shock for a moment and Teddy, who was attempting to stand, still held only with one hand, dangerously wobbled on his father’s leg. Thankfully, Remus stabilised him before he could fall towards the table and hit his arm.

“Be careful, Lupin, or you’ll drop the kid—” Severus admonished, giving him the letter (which proved a harder task than it should have been, with Teddy’s little arms flailing wildly around). “And what a shame would that be...“

Lupin was shortly engulfed in the letter, speaking to himself under his breath. “Oh, so that’s what you had in mind, you damned sphinx—“ he murmured, “—that she’s figured your writing style has changed.” His hand travelled to his fawn curls, though (thankfully) to pat them down, not ruffle them up in the irritating manner of both Potters. “A little inconsistent with the secrecy, isn’t she? I’d think it reasonable that they should be enigmatic even with other protection...” Finally he finished and raised his head from over it, with another partly rhetorical question, “G? Could it be Ginny then?”

“Granger.” Severus corrected.

“But she was using names—“

“—for the most part. She is changing the abbreviations a lot – P, for Potter, but also P for Professor and probably would be a P for Percival, if the brat was worth mentioning.” Severus reasoned. “Besides, I have been reading her essays for 6 years, which amongst the Gryffindor ones was the least unpleasant experience, so I do remember the word choice well.”

“Okay then, I surrender—“ Remus sighed. Then, he half-stated, with politely subdued interest in his voice, “—So... you saved Hermione and Charlie on the battlefield?”

“How about you focus on the letter?” Severus suggested curtly.

This really wasn’t the moment to get into the details of the Battle of Hogwarts, though he knew such a moment was looming. Both the mention of that and the Dark Lord peeved him a little bit, because they meant that Lupin would have to finally be clued in to all Severus knew and he was fully aware how draining that process would be for him personally. On the other hand – it was Lupin’s persistency that got them in contact in the first place, so perhaps he owed him an explanation indeed.

“I am focusing on the letter.” Lupin kept smiling at him, undaunted. At the same time, he was coordinating a suddenly necessary intervention in catching Teddy’s teething ring, slipping out of the kid’s hand, before it fell onto the ground.

“Let’s just say that Granger is the smartest of the lot.”

“I agree, but that’s an evasive answer. I’ll take it as a ‘yes’—“ Lupin paused to put the ring back into Teddy’s hand and glance at the child, who grinned widely in response, “—though you could give me an actually extensive account of something for once. For Christmas.”

Whether Remus was even aware that he’d made a sort of a pleading puppy-face at him, was unclear to Severus, but he sneered at him in response nevertheless. “The presents for little kids, Lupin, are already under the tree. If I may interest you in a book about Verena’s owl, then I am sure Teddy—“ the mentioned boy looked at him now, the snake writhing in his little fist, “—will manage without it. It is a pretty extensive account – 16 pages.”

Lupin, still for some reason happy as a sandboy, said simply: “Great then.” Severus’ disbelief at just how tolerant he was of his jabs today, must have, however, revealed itself on his face, thus giving Lupin the cue to explain further, “—The presents underneath the tree are for kids, indeed. Which is great in how there’s one for you as well, Severus.”

While the taunt he could, perhaps, laugh off, the notion of a gift instantly rendered him embarrassed and nearly speechless. _How have I not thought about that? Of course Lupin would have come up with a ridiculous idea of the kind._

Severus, obviously, didn’t have anything for him. He had assumed that both of them would be no more keen on exchanging gifts than on diving into the Black Lake in this weather. Though maybe even in that parallel he’d be wrong about Lupin, actually — knowing him, the man could very well not mind the Giant Squid and, having been locked for good few months, might be unbothered by the ice either.

As far as Severus was concerned, gift-giving was a custom reserved for friendships; he and Lupin were allies, at best. The mere fact he was tolerating, maybe even accepting, him now, did not mean that everything before had somehow cancelled itself.

Either way, Severus hadn’t been expecting this – the only people he was exchanging any presents with were the Malfoys, as his ‘dear’ friends, officially at least. Albus used to be amongst that scarce number as well, but now the best Severus could get him was probably a wreath for his grave, which, in the current weather, wouldn’t stand a chance against the wind for long anyway.

Lupin made a gesture like he wanted to grab his arm to shake him out of brown study or whatever had overwhelmed him (Severus wasn’t entirely sure what it was), but he thought better of it. When Severus shook it off on his own, he met two pairs of caramel eyes – the child’s lively ones looking at him from below the line of his own gaze and Remus’ attentive ones staring right into his own.

Severus blinked, not reopening his eyes for a longer moment. He intensively wished that he had either a darker complexion or an even worse blood circulation than he already did, because with what it was – both the astonishment and abashment were probably visible on his face clear as day. He could have blocked it, earlier, if he had focused on controlling that – but for whatever reason, he continued to be stupid enough to treat the chambers as a home and not yet another area in which he had to be on his full guard.

“I’m going to assume you haven’t been prepared for that—“ Remus said gently, abandoning the previous joking obstreperousness, “—but it’s no problem, really. I mean, I simply wanted to give back anything to you. It’s just that... I feel sort of parasitic with you doing everything for us.” He wasn’t meeting Severus’, now open, eyes anymore, but looking into the background beyond his ear, roughly above where the chest with the kid’s toys stood. “With me not even having to think about things, like, say – Teddy’s clothes, because they’re just there. Everything just appears. Not that I am complaining, but just, you know... Besides, it’s more of you buying yourself a present either way, since it’s your money—“ Now Lupin was flushed too (not that it was much of a consolation), the pink colour only partly hidden by the beard on his cheeks. It made the scar on his nose stand out a bit more. “—So, like I said... Still, there’s I think 50 Galleons left in the pouch either way, in case that would be a problem—“

 _How much like a Malfoy pretending to be generous will I sound telling him that he should keep the money and spend it however he wants, as long as the elf doesn’t attract suspicion to herself?_ Severus tried that in his head, using the fact that Remus kept rambling and decided for a ‘Strikingly’ as an answer. The resemblance wasn’t irking him that much, personally, but he instinctively felt best to conceal it in front of Lupin.

“—And of course, you don’t have to feel in no way obliged... I suppose you don’t anyways, but in case you did—“ Remus continued, starting to sound like the train of his thought had sped up and he was currently trying to catch up, panting his metaphorical lungs out, “—it’s just in return for all you do for Teddy, and for me. Still definitely too little, but... Especially since I can’t do anything much, other than that. Can’t even cook, or whatever, because the elves already got that covered too—“

Lupin was grazing his chin with his hand and clearly slowly spiralling into something, his expression getting more anxious with each sentence. Teddy seemed to have noticed that as well, now looking at his father oddly and no longer nibbling on the snake.

_Circe, let us sheer this conversation back onto the peaceful waters concerning Teddy before it sinks, drowning us both in some way._

Severus decided to interrupt finally, “Speaking of presents—“ he said, exacting a leisurely manner from his voice, “—Edward looks bored already, therefore could use a distraction, don’t you agree, Lupin?”

Remus must have understood his intention and clutched at the straw eagerly, turning to the child on his lap. “What do you think Teddy? Do you want to unpack your presents?” he crooned in the mellow voice he always used when speaking to the kid.

Teddy looked at him with interest and babbled something, most likely a confirming answer. Lupin shifted his hold on the kid and lifted him, while standing up himself.

Severus, meanwhile, summoned Frankie.

“Master?“ the elf appeared before him.

“Get Teddy a blanket and spread it under the tree. Then you will be the Snow Maiden and handing out the presents.”

\---

As soon as Frankie returned with the blanket, Lupin put the child on it, automatically kneeling beside him.

“Lupin, that is a kid’s blanket, do come back here—“ Severus called out to him, “Frankie can handle it, cannot she?” The elf nodded, her nose almost hitting the floor in the process, as she was taking a seat by Teddy.

Remus, meanwhile, walked back to his seat with overegged resignation, and sat, leaning back to keep Teddy in sight. “I was convinced it was you who thought me a little kid, Severus—“ he reminded, putting the napkin away from his plate and reaching for the turkey.

“Once again – us both, as it turns out. By the way, if you have questions actually concerning the letter, you are welcome to throw them at me.” Severus permitted, pouring wine for them both, fully aware of the reproach in Lupin’s gaze. Remus was perhaps willing ‘to allow it’ ( _as if he had a say_ ) considering the holiday, but was clearly displeased that was what came to his mind first. “What? You did not specify how old a kid I was, I’m going to safely assume a 6th grader, focused mostly on getting himself drunk on any occasion. And you are going to suffer quite a shock tomorrow—“

Lupin, raised his brow in lieu of asking a question.

“—I’ll return from the Manor with bottles, presumably. They might not have caught up on the changes yet.”

“Honestly, it would be much more of a shock if you didn’t—“ Remus stated with just a hint of reproach. “Cheers, however. For once at least.” he added, rising his goblet for a toast.

“Cheers.” The metal of the chalices jingled.

Meanwhile, Frankie, who had dived under the tree for the presents, just emerged and coughed to get their attention.

“This one is being for Teddy—“ she announced, pulling out a purple cube with a silver bow. Teddy, crawling beside her, raised his head in curiosity and watched her, enchanted, as she unwrapped the gift.

It was a box, so she had only to untie the ribbon and open the lid; then she began taking out the books. Teddy had no readings up until now, therefore Severus, in his quite recently developed method of dealing with such issues, which could be summarised as ‘buying a whole lot of things, so that the kid would be happy’, got him a huge collection of them.

Frankie, of course, had been absolutely outraged by the idea of poisoning the Little One with the cursed pieces of parchment, so that was the only part of the gift Severus had to purchase himself. He did acquire _“Lethal snake venom in potion making – enlarged edition”_ at the same bookshop — for balance. The elf had been placated a little by the fact that Teddy’s books barely had any words in them, so she at least agreed to wrap them for him. Severus was, however, positive, that Remus or himself would be the ones sentenced to reading to the child (even though from all he knew Frankie wasn’t illiterate, not completely at least).

Now Frankie was showing the cover of each book to Teddy, who watched with enthusiasm as the illustrations on them moved. Severus was looking at them, though with breaks for putting servings from each of the dishes on his plate. The elf had already went through at least a dozen of books and was now holding one with a blue wizarding hat on its cover, when Severus noticed Remus staring at him.

“What?” he asked, putting away the bowl of boiled potatoes.

“Nothing—“ Lupin tried to back down, so Severus sent him a glare to discourage him from lying, “J-Just, I mean – you have the audacity to be shocked, mad probably even, that I had the very idea to give you a present, while this one is already one hell of an expansive one, and there’s like three others from you for Teddy standing there. And he’s got so many things already and they too are nowhere near cheap-looking, and yet you’ve got him a whole lot of new stuff... How am I supposed to feel about that?” He sounded composed, which rather contradicted the contents of his words.

_Oh Merlin, not again._

Severus rarely took into account such meagre matters as Remus’ qualms about the costs. He himself had spent a good portion of his life in uncomfortable arrangements of financial (among others) dependence and had gotten used to it in the process. Therefore, in the abundance of things that Lupin could distress himself about this one seemed rather trifling to him.

“That is not for me to decide, Remus.” he responded now, coolly. “I would also assume you know how my ‘mad’ looks by now, and that I am currently nowhere near it. Though that might well not be for long, if you endeavour to change it.”

Confronted with that declaration, Lupin chose to remain silent for now, as well focusing on filling his plate, then eating.

Under the tree, Frankie was just unpacking a second gift – a plush owl, which not only hooted, but also (unlike the other birds in Teddy’s collection so far), could take off from the ground and hover a feet or two above it, for a short while. Teddy, discovering that, chuckled with laughter and Severus felt the corner of his own lips quiver, but stifled a smile.

Teddy’s father, however, wasn’t sharing that joy. As he surveyed the scene with the owl, his hand bogged in the air mid-bite and he lowered his fork to ask, very demandingly, “How much have you paid for that?”

Severus was slowly getting irritated. “My financial decisions do not concern you, Lupin.”

“They do, Severus, when they’re on the needs of my son or myself.”

“You mean – on **MY** son.”

For a short while, Lupin looked like he had been hit in the face. Then he snapped out of it, shaking his head lightly. His face was tense with vexation, but its features smoothened soon and, after a deep breath, Remus answered, the factitiousness of his calm obvious in his voice, “Yes, I guess I do mean that, technically speaking. Still, since I am in the picture and you’ve – because you definitely have – been considerate of that fact, then maybe you could take into account that, as I’ve already said earlier – I’m extremely uncomfortable with how much you’re quite obviously spending on us both.”

Teddy must have picked up on the masked tension between them, because he, currently hugging the owl and therefore filling the room with soft hooting noises, was now looking their way. Apprehensively.

 _Considerate_ – Severus repeated in his mind, wondering if he had it in him to live up to said title now.

Severus took a mouthful from his goblet. Then he spoke, measuring his words, “—Don’t be. Yes, I know that is easier said than done—“ he responded to the look of incredulity in the caramel eyes. _You’ve got no idea how well I do._ – Severus left unsaid. “Treat that as the government’s compensation or whatever lets you retain your pride. I have not spent a penny of my own savings on Edward or yourself, as of yet, if that reassures you.” It clearly did, based on Remus’ expression. “Or of mud-glleborns’.” he added, just in case Remus was going to jump into conclusions.

“Besides, most of those things were one-time investments, so far—“ Severus continued, cutting the food on his plate, but without looking at it – his eyes still warily fixed on Lupin to observe his reaction. “Well, apart from Teddy’s clothes and the books, those he’ll grew out of quickly—” he amended on second thought. “The birds and such, however, he could keep for years, so there is that. My opinion on magical toys has not changed, by the way, but you are around to keep an eye on him playing, and I rarely am in earshot to hear their bewailing. To conclude – it is no business of yours how much I am spending, Remus, but I assure you, I can afford it. And, on top of all, that you will not—“ he continued, still earnestly (though here despite himself, but he had to, if he didn’t want to startle Lupin into fretfulness again with his sarcasm), “—receive a bill or a list of your debts when this is over, if that’s what you are worried about.”

A little smile appeared on Lupin’s face, so the whole mollifying tirade seemed to have worked. “I will not? That’s most atypical of you, Severus, with your memory for things—“ he said, though charily breaking off at the end.

“Sorry to disappoint, Lupin.”

“On the contrary – I am just pleasantly surprised.”

Remus now too was observing the blanket under the tree while eating. On it, Teddy was still squeezing the owl (though Frankie had placed it in his arms so that he wouldn’t activate the hooting enchantment). The elf had already unpacked another of the gifts and so the kid was wearing a hat and a scarf, to match the black-and-silver mittens which the elf was holding.

“That at least, you cannot argue he needs.” Severus stated.

Lupin shrugged resignedly, though his face still bore marks of disapproving disbelief when he looked towards his son by the pile of still unpacked presents.

Since the clothes weren’t engrossing Teddy half as much as the toys were, Frankie quickly went to get another of the packages – a quite big one. Severus did not recognise it, therefore it must have been from Remus. The elf ripped the wrapping and began pulling out the contents – a set of socks, four pairs of little shoes, the most sweater-like wizarding garment Severus had ever seen and a small wizarding hat, coloured purple. When it was put on Teddy’s head, the hat jumped up on its own accord and began bending sideways, so that its tip tickled the cheeks of the wearer, to the joy of the kid.

“You are aware that he is not leaving the Chambers in that thing, I hope?” Severus asked, though without even trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

“Well, he’s got hats enough for outwear, I believe—“ Lupin replied, “—and I’ve seen this one quite a time ago, though the previous model was less... lively than this one. It’s just kind of adorable, so you know...”

Severus smiled and immediately snorted pityingly to cover that up.

“And last for the Little One—” Frankie informed out loud, having realised that they were watching her devoirs again.

This one was from Severus again and it was inarguably necessary for Teddy to have – another coat, an even warmer one.

After a pause filled with the elf’s rummaging underneath the tree, Frankie emerged holding a small dark box. “Now this one is for Master.”

Severus had almost forgotten that was awaiting him, so he now again was caught by surprise. The elf sent the gift gliding over to him in the air and Severus unpacked it at the table, putting the lid on the empty seat beside him.

Inside, on crimson lining, there was a pair of black gloves. Severus run his fingers through their surface and examined them scrupulously (only partly to have an excuse not to meet Lupin’s gaze for a moment).

 _Dyed Graphorn skin._ – he assessed. It was tougher than dragon hide, very spell-resistant, but at the same time easier to treat with acidic potions, therefore the end product had more of an appearance. However, due to those characteristics and to the rarity of it, it was also way more expensive than dragon hide.

So not only did Lupin not spend half of the money, he also wasted probably around a half of that on him.

_Damned idiot._

Worst of all – it was an actually decent gift. Severus was therefore now attempting to ad-lib a way to retaliate for this whole ordeal – by means of giving Lupin something as well, of course. Especially since basing on what the man had confessed today, he too would be exceedingly embarrassed if he received one.

“Thanks—“ Severus said brusquely, finally raising his eyes to glance at Lupin.

“You’re welcome.“ he responded, smiling politely.

Frankie, who had since brought Teddy to them, was now handing Remus the kid so that he could place him in the high chair.

“Frankie, you can sit with us as well, you know that, right?” Lupin encouraged her jokingly, getting back into his seat.

“Oh, Frankie is knowing, Master was saying the same—“ she huffed, her voice was loaded with pique, “—but Frankie is a proper house elf and she is not doing such a thing.” With those words she returned to the tree, to collect the shreds of the wrappings, then removed herself from the room.

Remus, meanwhile, was putting food on Teddy’s plate, having completely abandoned his own, though he hadn’t finished eating.

Severus, who had previously been eating in the Great Hall, didn’t have much appetite and therefore he was already done with his portion, so he decided to intervene. “Unlike yourself, I won’t have to waste warming spells on my food if I help out Teddy.” he ‘offered’.

Lupin persisted in filling Teddy’s (who was very much disinterested, because Ajax had decided to join them again) plate. He had nodded, however, and when he was finished with that, he uttered a short “Okay.” and returned to eating his turkey, leaving Severus to it. Ajax, having bummed another piece of meat from him, returned to his lair on the top of the cupboards.

\---

Severus had been trying (and miserably failing) to convince Teddy to eat anything else than the puree made of apples for good ten minutes, when Remus decided to break the silence. “You’ve said I can ask about the letter, right?”

“Ask away.”

He immediately regretted those words, when Lupin followed them, “What vial is Hermione referring to? Did you give them memories for a Pensieve?”

“I did.” Severus answered indecorously.

Lupin correctly assumed that was all he’d tell him about the matter and changed the subject, “What is the meaning of the second Post Scriptum? And will you let me respond honestly to the first? It simultaneously warms and breaks my heart that they’re worrying about Teddy.” Lupin said, reaching for his goblet.

“It was part of a riddle Miss Granger solved in her 1st year, to help Potter reach the Philosopher’s Stone.” Severus explained, catching the neglected Brussels sprout, which Teddy had decided to throw down, mid-air. “I assume she had hinted at that to encourage me to either use something from that as a password or to signal the need for code in general.” he reasoned.

Remus smiled with understanding and perhaps a shadow of amusement at Severus’ labours in the battle against Teddy’s fussiness.

Guiding a piece of carrot to the kid’s mouth, Severus amended, “I will let you respond honestly, I don’t see why not. Besides, I am certain that Granger has the information on it already and is testing me.”

“Hmm...” Lupin murmured, deep in thought for a short while, “Do you really think so? They might not know much... Of course, they would not boast about everything within a letter, but still...”

Teddy looked at Severus with utter disbelief as he offered him the parsnip. The carrots, however, he was (thanks Circe) still keen on eating. “It could have come from, for example, Pomfrey.” Severus responded, leaning towards Teddy to feed him another piece of the vegetable.

“You suspect that she’s in contact with them, then?”

“I mean — she certainly has the possibility. The school owls are idle and under the elves’ not-too-watchful eye. The rest of the old guard does just as well, but I was seeking Poppy’s advice for the teething potion for Teddy and she seemed genuinely impressed by the fact that I take good care of a half-breed child--”

“He’s not a half-breed.” Remus opposed immediately.

“According to the law – he is. What I think and what I say about the matter are two distinctly different things, Remus.”

Teddy, as if too offended by the term, decided to pull on the fork Severus had in his hand and the piece of carrot hit him in the face, then slid down onto his robe. Whatever showed on his face in reaction to that, must have been extremely joy-invoking, since both the Lupins began laughing. Teddy, on top of that, decided to throw another – this time grasping the carrot with his hand. His aim was poor enough for the slice to land on the counter of his chair, but he seemed satisfied with the outcome nevertheless.

Severus glowered at the both of them, to absolutely no effect, except for enhancing Teddy’s giggling.

“Are you sure you don’t want to switch, Severus?” Lupin proposed through snickering. “I can see that you’re not doing too well...”

“I am perfectly aware that you possess all the senses and that they are in working condition, I do not need that repeated continuously, Lupin.”

“Okay then, sorry I asked—“ he conceded, amusement still bending his mouth.

Frankie, who had suddenly appeared, offered her help too and Severus, on the verge of either yelling at the whole lot of them or surrendering completely, decided to quickly return to the previous topic, having refused the elf with a shake of his head. “As I was saying – Edward, I beg of you, eat, leave the fork – Poppy seems like the type to have contacted Minerva at least once, to ensure that the children are well, and such.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right. You know them better than I do, though I’d see Sinistra in that role too, actually.” Remus stated, wiping his beard with the napkin. “Just – has the aura of someone who would, I can’t quite explain better than that.”

In fact, it could have been Aurora just as well, so Severus nodded in acknowledgement. All of the members of the old staff were probably mindful of the fact that he had taken in Teddy, at least in the form of gossip, and a good half of them seemed like the types that would have tried to keep in contact with the resistance despite the obvious dangers. Therefore, that puzzle would have to wait for time to bring more clues to it.

Remus, having finished eating, ensured his fingers were dry and reached for the letter, which had been laying next to his seat, though away from the platters. He scanned through the text again, probably to remind himself what he had intended to touch upon.

Severus began spoon-feeding Teddy his second portion of the apple puree, since the kid had refused to eat the rest of his meat and he had simply given up on persuading him to do that. Feeding Teddy from a bottle, it turned out, was a feat much less exhausting than this. Severus was already starting to gain respect for Remus and Frankie for winning in such a struggle every day.

“The part about what they’re doing sounds a bit implausible to me, and-or insincere, if I’m being honest. So, do you think Hermione is telling the truth – that they really aren’t doing anything much at all now, just sending secret owls to different ministries with pleas?” Remus wondered, rolling the parchment.

Severus, still not able to turn to him fully, now taking out Teddy’s handkerchief from his pocket, spoke over his arm, “Well, at that distance I am no better Legilimens than you, but I presume she would not lie blatantly if that was the case – she could have just omitted that part, after all.”

“Fair point. Probably those owls are not just them seeking asylum, though. Or at least I hope so...” He broke off to drink. “Next round—“ Remus said in an announcer-like voice, putting away his goblet, “—The ‘he’, she’s referring to, is the Dark Lord, right?”

The question sounded rhetorical, but since there was a pause – Severus nodded, bracing himself for the doubtlessly incoming barrage. He had it long time coming, to be frank, it was just another sign of Remus’ ungodly amounts of patience that it was only now he was faced with it. Still – he was going to postpone it if he could.

Teddy grinned as the green cloth wiped his face, then Severus stood up and took him out of the chair, placing the kid on his lap.

“So, since I’m going to be writing about it anyways – what **can you** tell them about him, actually?” Lupin asked, handing him the teething ring for Teddy.

Suddenly, however, Ajax swooped over to them again and, performing a sort of tap dance amongst the plates of food, began winding the child up by getting just close enough for him to touch, then fluttering away just before Teddy could catch him.

After a pause in which both of them drank, Severus answered, somewhat tentatively, “For now – nothing. I have to sleep on it.”

The letdown painted itself clear on Remus’ face, but he didn’t argue. He tried again, however, his voice still quite hopeful, “Okay then, later. Another thing though, that the letter brought it to my mind – how long do you think, from now on? Are there any signs something’s going to happen?”

“You always return to that question—“ Severus noted.

“Wouldn’t you, if you were the one locked in?”

Severus had thought about the reverse of their roles a good few times. Frankly, he was rather sure he would have attempted to use a certain Unforgivable on himself before the circumstances would have even had the chance to unfold into a tolerable situation.

“I suppose I would.”

Severus took a sip from the goblet, carefully pushing Teddy closer to himself as the kid tried to catch Ajax yet again. The crow, as if in vengeance for ruining his fun, pecked at Severus’ wrist. If it wasn’t a good distraction for the child and perhaps also a motivation for him to attempt standing up, Severus would have told the bird off already, because it was being absolutely unbearable. It seemed that Ajax had realised his great role in today’s delivery and that this was the source of his unusually insolent behaviour.

“The answer to that, however, is still far beyond my knowledge—“ Severus admitted sincerely. Simultaneously, an idea popped into his head about what he could give Lupin for Christmas – answers, like he had asked for earlier. Now however, he went on, “As you well know, we are already past the point of my most hopeful predictions. Next one I would not place until well into the new year – especially with this winter. Government-wise, I must say that Circe only knows.” Severus paused to drink.

Remus was watching him with attention as he spoke, though he had meanwhile summoned the Honeydukes’ gingerbreads from the cabinet (to Teddy’s typical chortling). Teddy, still in Severus’ lap, was patting Ajax, who must have caught his master’s angry glare from before and was more peaceful now, on the head.

When Lupin opened the can and gingerbread men began walking out of it, the kid watched hypnotized, though with his little hand still on the bird’s head. His other hand, with which he had been petting the crow’s wings, now travelled to his mouth, but Severus halted it before Teddy began nibbling on it. He deeply hoped that Lupin had cast the sanitising spell on the damned bird the moment Ajax arrived, but it was best not to risk it either way.

Meanwhile Severus resumed speaking, “Corban told me today that he will be reorganising for the purpose of getting to the rebels, because Dolohov is rather inefficient, as can be seen by them writing to us. The busyness of rebuilding a system after the war bought the rebels some time, but they are stalling now. I am no Seer, but if they don’t manage to find endorsement until, say, next summer, it might lead to a longer ceasefire or the new regime may settle.”

Lupin looked very grimly at the cookie in his hand, then raised his gaze at Severus. “And what if they don’t? Then what? I’m staying in hiding for the eternity?”

“I could visualise much worse fates for you, Lupin—“ Severus replied, only slightly irked by the tincture of pretence in Lupin’s voice and the resemblance to another famously locked-in Gryffindor that gave him.

Remus, surprisingly, nodded with his eyes downcast instead of arguing, “So can I, but still I’d like to know that there’s a plan, even if that – waiting, is the plan.”

“It is, actually.” Severus emptied his goblet, intending to put it away, then remembered that his was one from the kitchens – and in a moment it refilled itself. The strength of his will was being cruelly tested, but he pushed the chalice away for now and delicately repositioned Teddy on his knee. Ajax, who had remained patiently in the child’s embrace, adjusted himself to the movement, but Teddy, this time, didn’t even try to catch him, until the crow returned on his own accord.

If Severus wasn’t greatly mistaken – the kid was getting whiny and probably would need to be changed in a moment. He decided to finish his thought first, “Although – why do you think I am exchanging correspondence with that amicable lot?“ Severus smirked and stabbed the air with his finger, pointing to where the rolled up letter lay next to the Weasley’s card, “—At least partly because I entertain a hope they’ll get you out of my hair, Remus, that is why.”

Lupin snorted. “And here I was, thinking you were appreciating the company.”

“Now there Lupin—“ Severus said warningly, praying that his embarrassment due to having realised that the remark wasn’t exactly unfounded wasn’t showing, “—don’t be so conceited.” he amended, shooing Ajax away and standing up from his seat with Teddy in his arms.

Remus shot him a questioning look.

“Edward probably requires changing—“ Severus explained.

“Oh, right then—“ he responded, getting up as well.

_Yeah, sure, why don’t we call Frankie here too. Never enough people to take care of a singular baby._

Lupin stretched his arms in a gesture which signified “Please hand me the baby.”, then said “You’ve already strained yourself enough with that dinner-battle, I’ll do it.”

Severus had the words of dissent on the tip of his tongue, but he then reckoned that this would be the ideal moment to visit the lab for a minute and complied. Lupin took Teddy from him and shuffled towards the bathroom. Severus, meanwhile, went into the lab and swiftly took a small vial from the nearest cupboard that held those – the one above the smaller sink.

He knew exactly what he wanted to put into it.

Then, he drew his wand and held the tip of it to his head, concentrating on the contents of his head that he wished to duplicate. The last time he had used that spell, they had been later viewed in the same Pensieve Lupin would be using. Well, wasn’t the world repeating itself...

A silver beam shot out of the wand and Severus carefully placed the memory inside the vial, then did similar thing twice more. Finally, he reached for a glass cork onto the shelf above him. Next, he left the laboratory, for now hiding the little bottle in his pocket.

He was on his way to the office, but Remus was just exiting the bathroom with the child held closely in his arms, therefore Severus veered off course, deciding to bring the Pensieve in later.

“Are you able to sit for a bit longer with us, Teddy?” Lupin cooed. Teddy ignored those words, but he wasn’t wincing in the cry-presaging way no more, so Remus proceeded with him to the kitchen. Noticing Severus wasn’t in his seat, Lupin asked, “And what were you up to when we were away, huh?”

“Getting you a present—“ Severus grinned. Well, he wasn’t aware that he did, but Teddy began laughing, which meant he must have.

They both returned to their respective seats, this time Remus being the one holding the kid.

“And what is it, then?”

Severus pulled out the vial. Lupin at first seemed puzzled, but then understanding slowly blazed over him. He sounded quite disbelieving, however, “Memories?”

“Yes, a copy of my memories of the battle, then of what was happening while you were asleep – the parts that should concern you, at least.”

He wouldn’t give him anymore than that – this was just knowledge, while many of his recollections he omitted as far too private. He cut out his own suffering with a fine-toothed comb – he was not going to show him weakness, like in himself writhing under Crucio, or desperately talking to portraits of dead people, that much was a given. However, judging by Lupin’s face, the mere promise of the access was already over-sufficient – the man was looking like he’d petted a unicorn.

“Your memories—“ Lupin said in a soft voice, “—Oh my – thank you.” he then added, beaming like a child in Honeydukes. _In fact, maybe like Remus in Honeydukes, considering his taste._

After that, Lupin remained speechless for a moment, his signature wide-eyes travelling from him to the misty liquid in the vial and back again.

That for some reason, galled Severus. “Don’t thank me.” he said harshly. “I am solely doing this, so that you cease asking for a verbal account of the events. Besides, you cannot even be sure yet that you have what to thank me for – they may as well be the memories of your dearly deceased friends as seen from my perspective, or from—”

“Severus— “ Lupin cut in firmly, “—please don’t do that thing.”

“What thing?” Severus barked.

Teddy, currently in close proximity to the gingerbread figures, had grabbed one of them, but, treating it more like a toy, had been pushing it to see what would happen, angering the gingerbread man, who was now shaking his fist at him. When the kid heard Severus’ voice, however, he raised his eyes from the figure and onto him. Nervousness glimmered in them before they, peculiarly, quickly darkened from light brown through grey, to almost completely black.

_Is my eye colour your code for fearful now? Please don’t do that to me, Teddy._

Remus squeezed Teddy’s arm placatingly and refrained from answering his snarl.

“What thing?” Severus repeated, controlling his tone.

Teddy’s eyes began brightening again, this time to Cissa’s blue.

“That thing of yours, where you do something that’s undeniably nice, but then you immediately feel the need to balance it, maybe unwittingly even, so you throw in as much hurtful words with it as you can.” Remus explained gingerly.

“I do have a reputation to maintain, Lupin.”

“No with me you don’t. It’s not like I’m going to go and tell anyone.” Lupin remarked, with a shadow of acerbic irony in the raised corner of his mouth. In his embrace, Teddy was progressing with the assault on gingerbread men, now trying to push two of them together (whether to fight or hug was unclear, but they protested fiercely nevertheless).

Severus motioned over his head, in the general direction of where Ajax was hiding. The bird cawed, registering that gesture and prompted Teddy to answer it by babbling, drawing his attention away from the gingerbread men, who, relieved, scattered away from the child’s arm reach.

“Oh, they already have their opinions on you alright.” Remus grinned wider. “How was it again? ‘Merry Christmas, Traitor?’ Not too smart of them to send it in their quill, though it at the same time served as signature... But it does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Maybe this should be a popular merchandise. Considering the times...”

“Absolutely. Merlin, I almost regret that they are not students anymore. For such creativity and complete lack of prudence, Weasley would have lost himself – or herself – a good half a thousand points from Gryffindor.”

“Is incredibly fair judgment a part of your ‘reputation’ or was that just a hobby of yours?” Remus asked, now hiding the vial, which he had placed behind the bowl with gravy (so that Teddy wouldn’t have noticed), in the folds of his robe.

“Taking points from Gryffindor?” Severus inquired, playing dumb, “Why? Was I that famous for it?”

“Definitely. It would have been unclear to me whether the Weasleys—“ Severus noted the absence of Potter in that sentence, though perhaps that was for the best, “—had it in for you, or the other way round, but, may I remind you, I taught there for a short while—“ curiously, Remus didn’t sound too resentful about the ‘short’ element of it, “—so forgive me if I don’t believe you that it was just dutifulness on your side.”

This was an unexpected swerve towards a topic, actually. Not that he minded much – Severus lately found out, that he hated his years as a teacher a lot less in retrospect than he had been convinced he would have. Besides, amongst the subjects concerning the past, this one, oddly, was least upsetting and dodgy.

_If somebody told me in the staff room, four years ago, that I would be willingly talking with the werewolf about his year at Hogwarts, I would have laughed in their face._

“At least two years of Gryffindors had your classes on the same day as mine—“ Severus recalled, “—I suppose they must have been eager to pour their hearts out to a fellow housemate?” he part-asked, part-stated, “But, getting back to the matter – it was as much of a pleasure as it was a responsibility. That House, pardon me, is a magnet for irresponsible dimwits.”

“You are forgiven—“ Lupin said with mock-clemency, ”—by a barely responsible dimwit, of course. Well... the students weren’t exactly crying into my sleeve by the teacher’s desk, if that’s what you’re suggesting—“ Remus grinned gaily again, first at him, then at Teddy, who had just caught another gingerbread man and was showing him said captive, “—death-threats, however, I have heard. Some were even quite well thought-of, I have to admit. Sorry for never intervening, but honestly, you might have been a bit of a... – I am really trying not to offend you here, though for a lack of a better expression – a bullying git.”

“Death-threats, huh? Isn’t that sweet—“ He must have put his anger at _him, of all people,_ preaching about anything to do with bullying into his voice and expression, since on that, the blitheness faded away from Lupin’s face. Severus wasn’t, however, intending to make Teddy associate him with the two of them being irritated again, so he then fervently cast around his mind for something else to turn to. “—In terms of retaliation for marks, however, I liked the runaway quills better.”

“Runaway quills?”

“Courtesy of the Weasley twins, I assume.” Severus said, reaching for his goblet (having given in again) and trying to ignore the voice in his head that reminded him of how half of the duo was already ten feet under. “That, the self-grading essay parchment and the vials exploding into glitter. I never managed to find proof that they stood behind either of those tricks. To my profound despair, as you can imagine.”

Remus’ smile returned, though it got gentler and was only slowly coming back to his eyes as he spoke, “Yeah, they had a talent, didn’t they? Even I got taken for a ride once in my year—and mind you, that means they were attacking ‘their people’ as well – though at that time I’m not sure if they knew yet—“

Suddenly, Severus felt a sharp jolt of pain in his forearm. The chalice shimmied in his hand, wine spilling onto the tablecloth, and his right palm automatically plunged to cover the Mark.

It wasn’t the same type of pain he had been feeling for almost the whole evening – the pricking sensation that accompanied him in the close proximity of the Lupins, when he was holding Teddy – no, this one was more racking and impossible to ignore.

He put the goblet down and bit his lip to distract himself from the fierce pangs of what felt like flames licking his skin. The pain wasn’t going away and it dawned on him what was happening – _He is summoning._

_Why now? Why, in Merlin’s name, does it have to be now?_

He understood, of course he did – today, because today not many Eaters would be on their guard in any way whatsoever. Today, because today they were going to get properly terrified, having been relaxed and careless before; if he had been – he, ‘the paranoid’ one, as Lupin called him – then the others would have be even more so. Therefore, they were unprepared and nonplussed into fear.

Severus cuffed his sleeve to ensure – the Mark was clearer than it had been since the Battle and was moving; the skin around it turned red and pulsated with the burning sensation. He left the robe that way – after all, it was an appropriate thing to do, nowadays, especially where he was headed now.

Then, almost afraid to meet Remus’ eyes again (he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the possibly negative emotions in them right now), he raised his gaze from his forearm.

Lupin was looking at him, bug-eyed once more, but he didn’t seem disgusted or fearful – shocked _and worried?_ if anything. Teddy was observing him as well, his irises once again adjusted to his dad’s caramel colour.

“I am being summoned—“ Severus stated the obvious, standing up in one quick movement. His voice felt hollow and frosty, as if he was shouting into a cold dungeon, “If I do not return until the morning—“

_Fuck, why do I have no plan for what is to happen if I do not return at all? How could I let this transpire? How could I let myself be caught unprepared?_

_Because this wasn’t supposed to take place. Not **yet**. _\- he answered himself.

“—send Frankie into the office to check... Then, if there is no sign I’ll be returning – make her ask Avery about me. Anthony will know, I suppose... In case I did not return at all—“ now Lupin certainly did look worried, “—contact Pomfrey through the elf, she would be the least likely to report you—but I will return—“ _I suppose I will._ The last part was meant to convince him just almost as much as it was meant for Lupin.

Severus left the kitchen without another gaze at the two Lupins. Remus didn’t exist, after all. And Teddy... it was better for Teddy not to be present too vividly in his mind now either.

He lunged into the laboratory in three steps, took two vials of the sobering potion, gulping one down instantly, grabbed the energising and blood-replenishing solutions – a bottle of each. Checking his pockets for the box with his sassafras salve and to take out his wand, which he then slid into the sheathe in his left sleeve, he stormed into the office. The cape he had grabbed in the exit billowed to the rhythm of his elongated paces.

None of the symbols of his allegiance were necessary, but for the mask – Severus hoped, deciding to skip taking them. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be terribly late – the Hogwarts grounds weren’t the best location for the summoned to be stuck in – and it was best not to give his Lord any reason to be furious at him. He flashed a spell at the fireplace, then threw Floo into the flames, all with his left hand, though, based on feeling alone – it threatened to turn into ashes itself any moment now.


	10. The Master

Remus Lupin knew well what a complete transformation felt like.

He had also witnessed a good deal of those in his life – friends who were able to sprout hooves or paws at will came with that experience. The transformation he had watched tonight, however, was more similar to his than to theirs. It was caused by an external force, independent from the subject’s will. While, unlike himself, Severus had once chosen to be controlled by said force, now it was just a burden and a terrifying one in that. For one second, before he wiped emotions from his face completely, Severus’ eyes glistened with raw terror.

He collected himself instantly. In fact, if Remus hadn’t been looking straight at him when the first wave of pain hit Severus, he wouldn’t have noticed. He was lucky to have been; otherwise, his slim mistrust towards him would have plumped out greatly.

When Severus raised his gaze from the Dark Mark, he was undeniably a Death Eater.

He looked at Remus, the glimmer of amusement in his eyes from before blown out as if with a Deluminator. They were now narrowed cynically. Cold and fathomless, they seemed way darker than they had the right to, in the well-lit kitchen. He was scowling again, though that did not mean his expression was any less blank. It wasn’t a grimace of anger – it didn’t convey anything at all. This, Remus reasoned, was the face of someone who had resigned themselves to bitter detachment, of _the Servant of many masters._

Since he had noticed Severus’ fear of his Lord’s call, Remus was scared about him, rather than of him. However, he wasn’t sure this had shown clearly when he met Snape’s glacial, pitch-black gaze. Severus even glanced at Teddy in this manner – for a fraction of a second, as if to test whether he was able to. Remus was surprised the baby didn’t recoil. Maybe Teddy had grown so accustomed to Severus’ glowers that this one was just another of his repertoire, to a kid doubtlessly no different from the others.

Remus caught himself on how he almost expected Severus' lip to curl in disgust at _the sight of a werewolf and a ‘half-breed child’_ , but such a thing didn’t transpire. Instead, Severus spoke.

His voice sounded hollow, like he was speaking to him from a burial vault, which did not exactly raise Remus’ spirits. Neither did his words – a superficial plan in case another unexpected thing took place. It carried the underlying suggestion that it very well could; that Severus **could** **actually** not come back.

Severus’ not-returning (which could only mean one thing) would surely bring death to Remus too. Of course he would have tried to save himself, but he doubted he could succeed in that. Not with a double death-sentence on his name.

“—but I will return—“ Severus said and he did sound convinced. Therefore, Remus, as he had been doing in all other matters, decided to trust him. Partly, because he didn’t want to so much as imagine his bearable situation changing into a complete nightmare in an instant.

Severus exited the kitchen, the door to the office slamming after him. Remus and Teddy were left alone. Now the child seemed to have belatedly grasped the nervousness that was in the air. He frowned in a cry-promising manner, so Remus held him tighter, simultaneously trying to divert his attention with a toy. A moment later, Teddy’s little fists rubbed his eyes.

“Are you sleepy Teddy?” Remus wondered, surveying him.

Teddy yawned in response. Having lifted him up, Remus headed to the bedroom. On his way he remembered about Teddy’s medicine and stopped in the doorframe, almost colliding with Frankie.

“Is sir Remus laying the Little One to sleep? Is Frankie to help?” she asked.

“Yes, I could use your help. Bring me a bottle with the teething potion from the cupboard, please.”

Before he had changed Teddy into his pyjamas, Frankie appeared next to him and left a bottle, filled with the frothing liquid, on the desktop. As Teddy sucked on the bottle, Remus fought fiercely not to think that the man who made this potion was in mortal danger right now.

Then, he rocked the baby in his arms until Teddy closed his eyes and could finally be put into the cradle.

The fake snow was still falling onto the bed. In the current moment Teddy didn’t seem either bothered by or distracted by it, so Remus decided to leave it on. Tucking him in under the blanket with the now unmoving – sleeping, green snakes woven onto it, he kissed Teddy goodnight.

Then, he took the Map from the drawer and having checked the charm connection between Teddy’s cradle and his wand, as was habitual for him, left the bedroom.

In the kitchen, Frankie was bustling – the plates flew to her hand while she turned on the tap. Over the sound of water, she said, observantly, “You is being nervous.” That was immediately followed by an offer, “—Is you wanting tea, sir Remus?”

It took no genius to deduce this. Remus was now pacing by the Christmas tree, mindlessly catching the flakes of fake snow into his open palm.

He was wanting tea. In fact, he’d take anything that promised to stop his stomach from lurching and his mind from devising scenarios in which something went terribly wrong. For the time being, his brain was fixated on what would happen if Voldemort found out about Severus concealing him.

_Would I have all the Hogwarts’ Death Eaters barging through the office door? Or would he perhaps care to come in himself, to try to get out of my head what I know about his adversaries? Would Teddy survive?_

When Frankie turned to look at his reaction to her words, Remus nodded. Then, he resumed circling, now while opening the Map, which was his sole source of information for the time being. In a single glance at the parchment he checked the respective chambers, ensuring that none of the Death Eaters was present in the castle anymore.

 _Why had Severus been unprepared?_ – he asked himself.

Because he definitely wasn’t, as uncharacteristic as that was for him. His shock in that first second, when he must have felt the jolt of pain lashing, could equal Remus’. It could surpass his, even. After all, Remus had, before, wondered whether there have been summonings, simply ones he was not mindful about. However, from how Severus was completely aghast at the Mark burning, he now deduced this must have been the first one in a long time.

Severus had told him absolutely nothing about Voldemort so far, apart from the fact that he was the Head of the Ministry. He ruled over the Minister, using his title of the Dark Lord. Whatever he knew himself, however, must have been what fed his absolute (and so atypical) dissemblance of Voldemort in his daily life.

The Prophets held their peace on the topic as well.

There were symbols of the Dark Lord splattered here and there and the Mark was pervasive – present all over the papers and Ministry officials’ robes. Yet, there was no presence of Voldemort himself. Maybe remaining in the shadows was the role of a Lord as perceived by him. However, that didn’t fit in with the picture of Voldemort – the power-hungry, over-confident _~~man?~~_ , who had striven to win the war mostly for personal power.

At one point Remus even wondered whether Voldemort could be dead (and Severus lied on the day he woke up) or at least – near it. Soon, he found proof against that option.

Severus was hiding his tattoo around Teddy and himself, but even in the papers Remus could occasionally spot someone unabashedly presenting their left forearm. From that, he knew Voldemort was alive and well enough for the markings to be visible even in a picture. The Lord apparently only refused to come into the light himself, all the while encouraging his followers to do so, openly.

Not unlike Hermione, Remus had been quite worried about that state of things. It was bothering him that Severus hadn't yet deemed the information vital to Lupin. _Maybe what he gave me today mentions it, though I'm not sure when I'll get to it. If at all…_

Frankie’s hand tugging at his sleeve brought him back to reality. “Here – sir Remus, tea.” She spoke with unusual softness, handing him the cup. He took it absently and returned to his musings.

Voldemort’s lack of appearance had been unsettling, but now that it ceased, Remus realised that he might come to miss it. In some way, if he was to live in a nightmare, he preferred it to be human-made. There, at least, there was the chance for mercy or change. Unfortunately, Voldemort was long past the point of losing his likeness to a human in every possible aspect.

Besides, the dangers of the summoning's suddenness presented themselves to him as a long, strikingly obvious list. Severus certainly had numerous secrets to hide, if he was who Remus trusted him to be.

Remus wondered what Severus' Occlumency tactic in that was. Was he completely suppressing those memories, which he couldn’t show to Voldemort? If so, then weren’t there too many of them to hide without arousing suspicion? _Would Voldemort even feel compelled to study the mind of a servant of this importance?_

He was afraid that the answer was three times “Definitely yes.”

He drained the chamomile tea quickly and only realised his pace when he saw the bottom of the cup. Before he could even think to ask for that, Frankie had appeared with another portion. He tried to make her leave him alone completely, but she refused in strong words. “Sir Remus is trying to make Frankie go, so that sir Remus can be locking himself in a room and pacing nervously until the sun rises, Frankie is guessing. Sir Remus is **not** doing that! Sir Remus is drinking the second tea and going to sleep.”

As far as predicting his plans went, she was a very good seer.

 _She was standing there before him, fists curled on her waist and staring at him as demandingly as she spoke. Guess I’ve got myself a nanny, don’t I? –_ Remus thought, with more amusement than he had assumed he could muster now. Frankie sometimes used this tone of voice during their Occlumency trainings to inform him that while she was "not tired yet"– it was time for dinner. It bore the markings of an army general, at the very least.

Nodding to Frankie’s orders, Remus sat down at the table and dived back into his grim thoughts. 

_Why did it have to be so abrupt? Everything was so ...pleasant... today..._

Evidently, Remus couldn’t even have an ersatz of normality in the form of a peaceful Christmas. No, instead he had to wait here, worrying, literally about whether he were to die in a few hours. Sure, maybe it was unlikely, but it wasn’t improbable. _Like Severus would have noted._

Once he had emptied his second teacup, Remus cast last searching look at the Map and said goodnight to Frankie. Then, he left the kitchen to ( _try to_ ) go to sleep.

After a long, boiling hot shower, he emerged back into the bedroom. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness before he advanced towards the bed. He couldn’t turn the light on. Teddy was well away, but it hadn’t been for long, so the light from the candelabra could still wake him.

As Remus walked towards his side of the bed, he glanced at the Map for the last time before sleep. He wasn’t going to stay monitoring it for the next who-knew how long, after all. That conclusion came to him thanks to Frankie’s insistence, though now he agreed with her wholeheartedly. Should something happen, the wards would wake him up either way.

With the faintest possible light emanating from his wand, Remus scanned through the open piece of parchment. The castle was still free of Death Eaters. For the first time in his life, Remus wished that to be different.

He halted for a moment at the cradle, whispered a second “Goodnight Teddy”, and then lied down to sleep.

The scar on his nose suddenly started itching and the pillow was too warm, so he had to turn it over. Then, he found his position uncomfortable, so he had to change sides. Then another scar activated itself – this time the one on his chest, to scratch which he had to unbutton his night-robe. He kept restlessly fidgeting for some time until exhaustion finally overpowered him.

He woke up when it was still dark outside. He rarely drew the hangings of the four-poster, which was how he could easily tell. Teddy wasn’t crying; based on his breathing, he was still sound asleep.

Remus turned around to check for sure, even though his other senses would have apprised him about that, but Severus wasn’t there _yet (?)._

He found it peculiar that there was no direct reason to him having woken up. Not a sound nor a nightmare, not even a change in scents. It made him a tad apprehensive, because _what could it be? a premonition of sorts?_. Instantly, he decided to consult the Map.

As he approached the desk, he heard the faint sounds of wind howling and caught a glimpse of what was happening outside. Although no sound could leave the Chambers, that didn’t work the other way round. Usually the stone and glass muffled the noise quite well, but the roar of the snowstorm had been loud enough to force through such barriers. Remus realised that this was probably what disrupted his rest. The weather change must have instinctively made him alert. He folded the black curtain to the side and peeked through the window. Barely anything was visible in the flurry of white on the dark navy background of the sky.

Then, he moved away from the glass and took the open Map. _The Carrows have returned._ Meticulous examination of the, mainly stagnant – sleeping – dots on the lower floors of the castle, informed him that so did Macnair.

_Why not Avery and Severus?_

Remus came to the conclusion that blindly looking for an answer to that question would only generate needless stress for him. For now he settled for facts: three of the Hogwarts Eaters were back, all of them were asleep in their own chambers, not in the Hospital Wing, thus – none had been maimed. He decided to go to the kitchen to check how long had it been.

It was about a quarter past two, so it had been quite a while, considering that he went to sleep earlier than his usual.

Remus lingered for a moment longer, standing by the counter and staring at the Map. Soon, he reasoned that some more sleep couldn’t hurt him and gave up on waiting. Severus wasn’t going to appear here out of the blue just because Remus was looking at the Map.

 _What if he doesn’t? At all? What if Voldemort had killed him?_ – was what echoed hollowly in his head while he tried to drift back to sleep.

Now the Map was resting on Remus’ nightstand, along with his wand. _Just in case._ The probability of him having to battle some Death Eaters was growing with each hour, and if he were to do that, he’d rather know their number and names.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While inside the Floo network, Severus was rapidly perfecting the inner wards in his mind. Ridding himself of all emotion, he couldn’t stop asking himself – _How could I have let this happen?!_

On top of his general lack of preparedness for the occasion, he only now fully realised the complexity of the whole Lupin-hiding business. In terms of difficulty of hiding things from his Lord, this was amongst the most complicated matters he had ever had to deal with. It was surpassed perhaps only by the ‘case of Albus Dumbledore’, which, after all, still played a role, probably a more paramount one than it had used to.

 _Why have I been familiarising with Lupin?_ – Severus scolded himself with half-hearted annoyance. He had to meticulously go trough every memory of his, picking out anything that could proclaim Lupin existed. Not many of his recollections could be completely masked. If he decided to just cancel them all out, it would be easy for his Master to sense there was something worth concealing.

Like it used to be with the matters concerning the Order – he had to carefully let Him in. The trick lay in precision. Only utmost particularity could allow Severus to show Him what he wanted Him to see, but without in any way alerting Him that matters he didn’t even existed.

Annoyingly, there were countless elements to eliminate from his mind.

From the details of his botched death, through Dumbledore and the Horcruxes, to Ajax and his important service. In this company, the concealed rebel and ‘a beast’ in one, who he had left at **their** Christmas table, was barely registering as a major confidence. At the same time, it was a ‘daily’ one, thus – the one Severus could most easily trip over.

All those things had to go or to mould themselves into a much more liege (though less accurate) version of truth.

A servant could not keep secrets from his Master... but he could lie to his Master’s snake-like face, if he was composed enough.

Severus landed in the lit fireplace of an empty shop. The ash and dust swirled around him in the clouds his cloak had scuffed up. Only the green flames from the portal lightened the room. Reflected in the jars and flasks stocking the shelves, they illuminated their contents – potion ingredients and already prepared mixtures (mainly, ones of shadowy applications).

Apart from him, the shop was deserted.

While he was still engulfed by the ashes, Severus cast a smell-banishing spell on himself. He wanted to avoid smelling of anything that could betray him. However, he couldn’t afford to peculiarly bear no scent whatsoever on his clothes and hair. The ash was a compromise.

As he stepped out of the fireplace, the wards began beeping to alarm the neighbouring buildings. Somewhere in the owner’s home a wand was vibrating to signal forced entry. Severus wasn’t too concerned about this. He now focused on his Mark, to once again imagine the location it was anchoring him to. He had no idea of the exact address and he didn't need to know it. The bond was always enough to guide the underlings to their Lord; it had never failed either of the sides.

Outside – in the distance – other, noisy sounds of alarms could now be heard. They echoed against the cobblestone, many of them louder than the one piercing his ears in here. By the time he disapparated, the Knockturn Alley had filled with a cacophony of magical sirens from other shops.

He wasn’t the only Hogwarts’ Death Eater anymore. He should have gotten used to it throughout last year, but it still felt abnormal. Now all of them must have followed a similar route. After all, it was certainly the one best fit to continue their journey from.

Severus landed in a hall.

Shadows jittered on the groin ribs of the construction, soaring into nothingness. The chamber was wide and tall, dimly lit with metal torches. It seemed to stretch into infinity, its ends pitch-black as the ceiling above was. The flames, of greenish hues, coruscated across the silver of shafts likening them to blades. Their emerald gleam brought to mind the obvious curse, making it even more eerie.

 _Ambience. He fucking needs his ambience._ – Severus discerned, careful not to let that thought leave any trace in his mind for later. The Dark Lord had always been one for grand gestures and this was yet another of his glorious returns. Thus, it had to be properly accentuated.

Along the length of the hall countless silhouettes were lined. Some belonged to Eaters, others – to His lowlier servants, who went together with the marked for the summoning.

This was all Severus had managed to observe in the short moment he had at his disposal. Shortly, his Master noticed his appearance in the room and approached him.

The servant lowered his head in a bow. He was already kneeling on the cold stone floor; by now it was habitual and completely automatic for him to do so in His presence.

“Severus—“ He said, almost hissing out his name, “—the first to arrive from Hogwarts. Your fervour is appreciated.”

“Thank you, my Lord. Years of practice.” Severus replied, raising his gaze slightly, so to kiss the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes. As he did that, he noted that in front of him to the left, the lanky figure of Avery had just appeared. Presumably, this was the second promptest Hogwarts' Eater. Also presumably – him the Lord would not acknowledge directly.

His Master benevolently stretched His long-fingered hand exposing a silver ring. Severus’ lips met the cold metal. Meanwhile, he finally felt His presence in his mind.

Severus had spent the day partly with Corban and the rest, partly alone with the child in the Headmaster’s Chambers. Similarly – the last few months. He led the boring life of a settled down man in power, but one satisfied with it, not even dreaming of endangering his Lord’s one. He bore no resentment to his Lord, made no mistakes on His behalf. He strived to bring more glory for Him, if anything. Severus had responsibilities accorded to him by his Lord and had been fulfilling them best he could. He also had a kid, some half-breed he took in, because his mistress had asked him to. It did occupy his mind a lot, but not nearly as much as his duties did.

The Dark Lord was satisfied with what He saw. As delicately as he had previously entered it, in a breeze-like stroke, He slid out of his mind. Yet, even after He had later stepped back from him, He was still prodding at its edges. His omnipresent Legilimency had not been in any manner weakened, letting Him peek into Severus’ present flow of thoughts in case they turned out to be of substance.

Before He stepped away, however, the Lord’s freezing hand cupped Severus’ jaw to usher it up – allowing him to look at Him. The servant did his best not to wince at its closeness to the wound on his neck, which had never fully healed. The Dark Lord smiled His horrible lipless grimace of a smile. He must have realised what caused the pain he could notice burning in Severus’ mind.

Once His pale hand has lifted itself from Severus’ skin, it gave a minute wave downwards. Taking that as his signal not to stand up yet, he only craned his aching neck, daring a glance at his Master.

The Dark Lord had healed. His reptilian-like face was no longer covered with the blackish, vein-like marks and neither were his hands. Apart from that – little had changed. The Lord was looking at him haughtily, the inhuman red eyes piercing right through Severus’ skull. His expression vacant but for that amused, malicious half-smile. On His usual black cloak rested a medallion with His own emblem – a skull with a serpent (the snake that His underlings wore alone).

Speaking of snakes...

“You have not met Yilan yet—” the Dark Lord noted, gesturing to His shoulders. On them a dark green serpent, no less humungous than Nagini used to be, was coiled. Now, it slid down the folds of the Lord’s robe and with a slither against the stone circled around Severus. “She is the replacement I have produced for my dear Nagini—“ the frigid voice of his Master continued with a horrible imitation of fondness woven into it.

“Yilan, this is my – devoted – servant, Severus, the Headmaster of Hogwarts.” He first spoke in English, then began hissing in Parseltongue, possibly translating the sentence. The snake’s body scudded against Severus’ shins as she rose from the ground, so that her head was at the level of his. She writhed in that position, staring at him observantly with her tongue stuck out inches from his ear.

Severus let himself be scared. His last encounter with his Master’s pet wasn’t exactly a pleasant one and he supposed this was the emotion He wanted to sense.

Once this introduction had been made, the Lord had no further business with His servant. Followed closely by His snake, He glided away.

Severus darted looks at his surroundings again – all of the servants were kneeling. He could not tell much in the darkness, but he saw who was in front of and next to him. On Snape’s sides, judging by the masks, knelt Rabastan Lestrange (Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation – essentially, the Department of Future Wars) and, on his right, Lucius Malfoy, the Minister for Magic.

Lucius, it seemed, had not bothered to change into the proper outfit either. His fur-collared cape, unbuttoned, revealed a silvery dress robe beneath it. His steel eyes met Severus’ for a moment. However, in those circumstances neither of them could actually risk betraying what they were feeling about the suddenness of this.

Soon, Severus’ Mark stopped burning. That would mean all of them had already gathered. Indeed, the Lord now cast a glance over the sides of the chamber, checking the presence of His servants. Then, He came to stand in the middle of the room. Yilan was ascending onto his arms again. 

“My friends—“ He began coolly, His voice echoing in the endless space of the chamber. “—As I have promised, I finally return – even sooner than I had been hoping to. I understand you must have been distraught – left to your own devices, without your Lord to guide you. I have good tidings for you – you will not suffer such abandonment again— “ He guaranteed. From his position Severus could see His lipless smile widen. “In that time – of my absentia – your judgment had been tested, for only rarely could I gift you with instructions. A doubtlessly challenging task – to fulfil your duties to your Lord, your beloved Master, when I was not there to utter them to you directly.” He paused and let the silence stretch as the echo of His words slowly lost itself in the spaciousness of the hall.

“As I have made known before – I require nothing less of my friends than stone-hard loyalty. Even when I am away. Especially since many – though not all of you—“ His slit-pupiled eyes swept through their ranks, lingering presumably on the representatives of the youngest generation of the Eaters. “—had failed in that area in the past. This, of course, still holds true. I have to acknowledge that most of you have served me **loyally** and **efficiently** , despite the lack of proper guidance—“ He laid a stress on the words.

Severus quickly realised what was afoot. So must have others, because he could register shifting all around the chamber. Snape himself remained motionless, eyes fixed on the figure of his Lord and mind devoid of all but devotion to Him.

“—some of you, however, to my utmost chagrin—“ The Dark Lord continued, strolling between the ranks of his servants to Severus’ left, while the Elder Wand slid into His bony hand. “—have failed me in performing their assigned tasks. It pains me to see that even the most precise of instructions did not prevent that from happening.”

In a blink of an eye, the Dark Lord halted in place. A second later – a thud resonated through the chamber, signifying that the “Crucio” He had cast, hit its target. The halls architecture distorted loud sounds considerably. Thus, it was hard to tell to whom the ensuing screams belonged. However, Severus was almost sure it was Dolohov convulsing on the stones. A moment later, his wails were joined by others' in a grim chorus of voices. The Dark Lord was presenting His power, casting the torturous curse at multiple people at once. The victims were those responsible for the failures in tracking the members of the rebellion He cared about capturing. Now, they were given the chance to ponder over their guilt. Severus was certain they were regretting it deeply.

The Dark Lord held the curse for a while, without attempting to speak over the shrieks. When he finally deemed it enough of a punishment, He lowered his wand in a deafening silence. It was only interrupted by the excruciated panting of the punished. The sough from when the servants moved their heads to better see had ceased completely. Currently, it felt as if the whole crowd of them had simultaneously decided to hold their breath.

The Dark Lord, as if oblivious to that, continued to walk amongst them leisurely. “There were also others—“ He spoke in His high-pitched, though languorous tone. “—Who have envisioned a future for themselves in which **they** would make demands to their Lord…” Whoever that fool was (or fools were), Severus did not envy their fate, based on the icicle-sharp note in his Master’s voice. “—I fail to see how my temporary absence could have caused that — but I assure each and every one of you — that it is not a correct assumption."

He hissed to Yilan in Parseltongue, causing her to descend onto the cool floor again. The Lord and His snake stopped on the very edge of Severus’ field of vision – far away from the front of the Chamber in which he was kneeling. Severus moved his head to observe the scene, though as discreetly as was possible.

“My Lord, I-I did not... I didn’t—“ some lowly Snatcher mewled.

“Of course you did, Everly. I would not punish you, had you not.” The words fell chillingly into the chamber, combining with Everly’s whimpering from restrained tears of fear. “Now I can see it wasn’t a mistake not to have let you join my closest friends.” Next, the Dark Lord addressed his serpent, “Your Christmas present, Yilan.”

The man’s terrified yelp was stifled shortly, as the snake twisted around his nape and strangled him. She then opened her jaws widely and began consuming the man’s body.

Having disposed of His over-confident servant, whatever his specific transgression had been, the Lord resumed his daunder. His steps reverberated in the hall.

He was returning to the forepart of the chamber, headed closer to the unused entrance. Perhaps its function was solely decorative – the dark doors, metallic in looks, were framed by an imposing entablature, the carves of which had shadows dancing on them.

Meanwhile, wheezing and rustling was issuing from Severus’ left, where the first thump from before had come from. He surmised Antonin was already scrambling to his feet – or knees, as it may.

The eyes of all the servants on Him, the Dark Lord addressed them again. “Today I have summoned all of you to me to share the glad news of reappearance. But, of course, there is more than that. I believe you all have a lot to tell me and even more to hear about on my further aims for you. Therefore, I want to talk to you, my ardent followers. To each of you. That will, of course, require time – which I believe you will feel privileged to offer me – as well as discretion.” On the example of Dolohov, who Severus could identify in his line by the continuous twitching of his head, the Lord showed them what he meant by that. With a wave of the Elder Wand, He forced him into a deep bow.

After this announcement, the Dark Lord began another walk.

Now that it had eaten, His snake was slower in its pace. Still, it lumbered after Him faithfully. They stopped approximately around the third person to Severus’ right. Probably – it was the first in the line. He spoke to them in a soft whisper. The servant, whoever it was, was answering just as quietly.

The scar on Severus’ neck was pulsating, but he pushed back the pain, having become rather apt at that. However, the previous mention of Nagini did not exactly help alleviate the stinging sensation. Apparently, it was not entirely a phantom pain, if his Lord had made the impression of controlling His impact on it.

After a moment, the Dark Lord moved to the next person. This time Severus was able to work out the sound of their voice – a woman’s voice – _Cissa’s._ Once He was done talking to her, He advanced towards Lucius.

Here, a good part of it Severus would have been able to hear. Yet, the Dark Lord had found a spell for the occasion (one unknown to Snape), which muffled the meanings of the words, while not affecting the tone of voice too much. It was still, doubtlessly, Lucius’ murmur he was hearing, only the message of his speech was indecipherable.

Once the Malfoy family whole had been accounted for, the Lord sent them off with a lazy wave of His long-fingered hand. Severus, now with his gaze abjectly stuck in the floor due to his Lord’s proximity, caught that flourish in the corner of his eye.

As the three people next to Severus disapparated with soft pops, the Dark Lord sauntered to the other side of the hall, leaving him to wait. There, another few servants were talked to. All of them definitely were Eaters and ones from the inner circle. It seemed that the placement in the hall was meaningful in some manner.

Time went by at slug’s gallop and Severus was uncertain how much of it had passed. He could only tell his Lord wasn’t hastening.

Eyes trained on the lines in the marble under him, Severus listened in to the soft pops of disapparition, which punctuated the susurrus of the Lord’s talking. Judging by those, he could roughly count four or five servants until the Lord returned to his part of the Hall again.

He had, of course, been expecting Him, preparing for what He would require of him or want him to report about. What was his shock, when his Lord omitted him in the succession, drawing nearer to the neighbour on his left instead.

If he had been stupid enough to wonder, he would have been wondering what he had angered his Lord with to deserve being excluded and made to linger. However, since he was not, he remained in his stance, containing his thoughts on possible reasons why He would have done that.

The Dark Lord’s high-pitched, blood-curdling laugh stabbed through the air. After its surcease, Rabastan’s voice came, almost balmy in its steadiness. Once again, there was protracted whispering followed with a low cracking sound. Then, the Lord moved to the next person, most likely the other Lestrange.

He was approaching His underlings in a seemingly more and more chaotic manner. In one moment, He was walking to the end of the row just for one person, in another – choosing to converse with two, or three, or four of His servants consecutively, from the middle of the line.

This continued for an eternity. The Lord would stride over to a servant, let them kiss the hem of his robe, then speak to them and hear them out, to finally send them away. The length of the conversation varied, though the further ends of the ranks were characterised by shorter ones. The sequence could have had some sort of a pattern. If so, then it was a well-veiled one. Or perhaps it was simply hard to work it out based on hearing alone.

It was unwise to question the decisions of the Dark Lord. Severus didn’t. He just patiently waited for the situation to unfold, his mind and breathing steady and controlled.

Not every of the servants managed to be this patient.

There was someone who didn’t, probably another Snatcher. Those were the group that lacked intellect and, apparently, self-preservation skills, most rackingly. He straightened a little too much in the obeisance to survey what was going on, thus bringing the Lord’s irritation upon himself. Severus was very set on not lifting his gaze, but he didn’t even have to do that – because while the Lord’s curse was muffled by His spell, the man’s cries of pain weren’t.

Slowly beginning to suspect what the reason behind his situation was, Severus guarded his conjectures from his Lord, should He wish to suddenly brush against his mind.

He was being subjected to a test. Its origin he could only guess blindly– it could either be there was some inaccuracy in his memories, which his Lord wished to investigate, or something less dangerous than that. The Dark Lord had always been rather whimsical, after all. 

Either way, it was crucial that he didn’t panic, no matter how long his Master would command him to wait. Even if he were the last to leave the hall, if he wanted to be able to leave it at all, he had to remain serene.

A couple of whiles went by. Severus wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he presumed three or four hours had passed. The hall wasn’t nearly empty yet.

From what could be inferred from looking at the floor, some other servants were left with no one to their side, like Severus had been. Others, though that he could only sense and surmise, instead of check, were still forming a queue by the walls of the hall.

The Lord was strolling through their ranks tirelessly and still in an unhurried manner. Since the Snatcher from before, not one servant had been restless. They all awaited their turns unabatingly – Severus amongst them.

Severus was kneeling, with his head lowered and eyes stuck on a rift in the floor, and his mind ostensibly devoid of fear. He **knew** he had nothing to be afraid of. The throbbing pain in his neck did not subside, quite the opposite. He was now enriched with one in his spine (from the bowing) and with the prickling one coming from the joints of his knees. The frigidness of the floor was digging into the marrow of his bones. Wherever it failed to reach, the bitterness of the air around offered its assistance, seeping in through his skin.

Finally, the figure which had been stooping opposite him disapparated. There weren’t many more left, apart from some Snatchers far in the back. Presuming this had been the last of the Hogwarts’ Eaters except for himself, Severus readied for the worst. Yet still, his mind remained full of conviction that he had not deserved any punishment.

After another, horribly protracted while, Severus was ridiculously pleased to notice the bulky string of dark green scales that Yilan was, shimmying towards him.

“First to arrive, last to leave—“ the Lord’s high voice remarked.

The promise of letting him leave was no doubt reassuring. Their conversation – even more so.

The Lord had no critical objections to His servant’s doings.

He wasn’t exactly pleased with Snape’s lack of appropriate ruthlessness towards the mudbloods. However, shockingly, He understood his viewpoint on the mind-cleansing matter (according to His own words). As Severus had justified – it was better for the small mudbloods to live in their blood-given world. Soon it would be conquered by the magical one either way. “Slaves—“ Severus shared his thoughts on the matter, to his Lord’s benevolent recognition. “—are more useful than soulless almost-cadavers, who inhabit the Azkaban prison.”

The governing of the school, thankfully, went by without criticism as well. However, Severus felt His presence in his mind watching the memory with Alecto Carrow very attentively.

About Teddy He had known before – through the Lestranges. Of course, He hadn’t had the chance to confront his servant on it any earlier. “There is enough Blacks’ blood for the half-cub to become a wizard, you believe, Severus?” The Dark Lord wondered, somewhat mockingly. To Severus’ begrudging nod and the thoughts he let flood his head, He added, “Or so does she. Well, for as long as he—“ the notable use of the pronoun registered clearly with Severus. “—is raised correctly – that so may be.”

After that exchange, Teddy, thanks Circe, was no more interesting to the Lord than a lacewing fly. Only once did He incidentally peek into a recollection of Severus taking care of the child – during the night, in the otherwise empty bedroom of the Headmaster’s Chambers.

His Master also wanted to see the scene of Severus’ lucky survival in the Battle again. During that, he was encouraged to speak of other matters – to divert his attention.

Severus was finally let off with a suggestion (or a warning) that he shouldn't raise his wand against “our mutual friends, Severus” in the future. At least that pertained to so-called “avoidable situations”, which the one with Alecto had been classified as. Nevertheless, He claimed not to blame him. Snape also received several instructions concerning his headmaster duties.

As He proclaimed Himself, the Lord had noticed how His “most faithful servant” was planning for the distant future. He fully acknowledged the usefulness of such farsightedness. Coming from the Dark Lord, any praise, which was not ironic and followed by a curse, was high praise. Therefore, Severus considered himself incredibly flattered.

In the end, he was allowed to kiss the hem of his Master’s robes and leave. Getting up to his feet was accompanied by the sensation of his legs being ripped apart at the knees.

The Lord glided over to His next underling and Severus departed _home_.


	11. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning:** light suicidal ideation/suicidal thoughts (though good vibes angst only, or something). 

Hogsmeade was deserted at this time of the night – _or, more precisely, morning_. Severus landed in a street corner, where the nearest lamp’s beam did not reach him, instead pouring over the snow-covered road in warm golden streams. The drifts had grown in those few hours. There must have been a snowfall, perhaps even a snowstorm since the wind was still raging. It crashed against the shutters of the surrounding houses, causing them to screech violently.

Getting out of the waist-high heap of snow he had landed in, Severus dusted himself off. Despite the biting cold, he did not cast a warming spell on himself, preferring to rely on potions in that matter. He would be drinking one anyway.

The frost pierced the skin of his hands like pins as he took a box out of his pocket and unscrewed it, but, Merlin, he wasn’t able to wait with that. The scar on his neck was in no way numbed by the cold, rather the opposite. Severus dipped his fingers in the salve. He spread it over his insufficiently covered skin, sliding some under his collar. The scent of it filled his nostrils along with the next portion of frosty air. Meanwhile, the ointment’s immediate soothing effect spilled over his pained nerves.

He screwed the lid back on and slid the container between the folds of his robe, fishing up a vial instead – the energising potion. Having taken a few sips, he corked the bottle up again and put it back, this time hiding his frozen hands together with it. Then, he took off towards the school.

He needed the walk. He needed to think.

He couldn’t afford to have done so in the presence of his Master, of course. Now that he was on the desolate road to the Castle, however, the danger had lessened. He could even allow himself a hint of restrained panic on just how much of a close call today’s summoning was. In a moment he’d block that emotion without a trace. Yet, currently, he found solace in wallowing in it, while letting the chilly air bite his nose and cheeks.

The mere fact he apparated out of the _castle? or church?_ unharmed, meant that he had not failed, on the whole. Still, Severus castigated himself once more for having become weaker, reckless and unprepared.

An imprudent idiot – that was what he had let himself become in the period of spurious freedom from the constant presence of his Lord. _Perhaps that’s the contagious thing seeping off of the Gryffindor and onto me, after all._

The most troubling issue of all was that his Master did not believe him. In the multitude of things, He would have been right to do so He had chosen exactly the one that was not a lie.

Severus had felt the probing presence of His mind fusing with his own many times before. Tonight, the burningly frigid mark its touch left pointed to one memory in particular. It was the recollection his Lord had not only put His inhuman hand to create, but also – which He had later turned into a concerning one for Himself.

It was the one of Severus’ bungled execution.

His Master seemed to have found more avail in keeping Severus alive, in the end. Nevertheless, paradoxically, once He had finally won, He also became more wary and paranoid, in a quite the Miser-like manner. Severus knew from Lucius’ post-battle account that he wasn’t the only one of His closest servants being scrutinised with doubt, despite the Lord’s own decisions considering his fate.

Severus’ death in itself was a highly diverting affair. It was perhaps the greatest laugh the universe had had at him, _so far_ ; and that was saying something.

\---

Until he felt it, Severus had never thought a pain sharper than the one of an ignored summoning could be inflicted upon him by his Lord wandlessly. Similar, just as stinging as the one he was used to experience on his arm, it was at the same time more overwhelming, ubiquitous. 

It was nothing short of Crucio. However, instead of the muscles, it crept solely into his skin, which felt as if it had been set on fire, then – flayed. His own screams pierced his ears, resonating in the bubble of the protective cage for him and the snake to hear, then busting out of it.

 _Snakes cannot hear the human way. She only feels the vibrations_ – he noted scientifically, falling to his knees.

He must have momentarily lost consciousness. The world turned silent and the last he saw were the scales of Nagini – then there was darkness – then sounds again. Somewhere in the distance – a magical explosion. Close to him – scurry and voices. Students’ voices, ones he knew very well.

His vision was blurred, but not enough for him to be unable to recognise the dark-haired boy who leaned over him. This was the last thing he owed Albus before he could finally die – making sure Potter knew what his burden was.

“Take – them.”

The piercing pain in his skin did not subside. He kept his fingers pressed to the wound on the neck in a futile, instinctive attempt to slow down the blood flow. The weight of his hand was making it hard for him to speak.

“Look – at – me.”

The emerald eyes of Lily leaned over Severus, as the boy kneeling beside him followed the order. Then, nothingness engulfed him.

_Finally._

His eyelids were burning when he opened them again.

A heap of red and gold emerged into his, still unfocused, vision. He heard a blast, loud, though distant. It resonated through the ground up to here, quaking the foundations of the building on whose dusty floor he lay.

This definitely sounded like it could be hell, and felt like it, too – the ache was duller now, but it lingered in every inch of his skin. He was rather convinced his hand was still clung to his neck. Yet, he wasn’t sure he still had feeling in either of those parts of his body. _If I have not moved_ – he reasoned sluggishly – _it is unlikely that I am just a soul, is it not?_

As if to provide answers to that puzzle, the gaudy object before him drew closer and he was faced, eye-to-eye, with a bird. Its black eyes, framed by the colourful feathers, glistened in the brilliant mix of crimson and emerald light sneaking inside through every crack in the walls and windows.

_Fawkes?_

The phoenix lowered and raised his head. As if responding to the unuttered question, it let out a solemn, but low, musical cry.

_No._

Suddenly, he was overcome with more dread than when he realised what kind of end his Lord had envisioned for him.

_No, no, no._

It couldn’t be Fawkes. It couldn’t be this. It couldn’t be that _for the nth bloody time_ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian _fucking_ Dumbledore had (for a change – from beyond the grave), decided to save his damned hide. Severus refused to accept that as a possibility.

_It cannot be._

As his senses began returning to him, clearer now, he was able to take in his situation. There was the noise of the ongoing fray outside, the feeling of clothes drenched in blood against his skin, the sight of the deserted Shack around him. The reality persisted. All that confronted him with the undeniable truth – he was still very much alive, certainly more than he would have preferred it.

“Why—“ his throat was tight and hoarse, completely ruining the effect he intended to have on the damned phoenix. He wished he could startle him, madden him perhaps. Maybe if he did that, the creature would turn more merciful and stick his beak right into Snape’s eye-socket. The blood loss from that was guaranteed to finish what Nagini had started.

“—Why did you save me, you cursed pile of plumage?” Severus whispered with reproach in the bird’s direction, depleting the, clearly – limited, reserves of air in his lungs.

The phoenix puffed out his feathers in offense.

_Oh excuse me, Fawkes, did you expect a ‘thank you’?_

In the hopes of touching the accursed bird to ensure it was tangible, Severus tried to move his hand. The limb was awfully heavy and the phoenix edged away before he had even fully lifted it.

However, having made the effort to move his left hand already, Severus forced it to open the sheathe of his wand. The stick slid out, but he didn’t manage to compel his fingers to curl around it in time. With quiet tapping and a splash of his blood, it fell to the floor. It proceeded to roll away of him through the puddle of carmine, which he could feel but not see spreading around him.

He tried to bend his neck in that direction and the pain threatened to completely paralyse him. Thus, he said his farewells to the idea of reaching it manually. He tried to summon it. Considerably weakened and, obviously, wandless, he only caused it to swivel back a little. It stopped outside where he’d be able to grasp it, because _why of course_ , even his own magic wouldn’t do him the favour of being obedient.

The last time he felt this useless was when he was bed-bound in the Hospital Wing, just after returning into the ranks of his beloved Lord. _Sweet memories_ , considering that this time the Dark Lord’s aim had been similar to his initial one back then.

By some miracle, Severus managed to stick his fingers into his pocket and even move them around. Searching through all the items stored there without lowering his gaze or using Accio, and with increasingly nerveless fingers was far from easy. He had to guess the correct vial from the shape alone.

He had no idea how much time he spent rifling through the mess of his own pocket, but it certainly felt like eternity.

His inutile hand finally grasped a bottle he was certain he needed and even succeeded in raising it to the level of his face. The cork flew out with a wandless spell ( _here it works! but not on that treacherous wooden stick!_ ). Severus drunk the dark red liquid in one gulp. Another portion was necessary. He tried to take it out, but somehow he had exhausted himself already. His hand fell limply onto his robe, while the empty vial spun down its folds. Clattering, it trailed after his wand, probably pushing it even further away. 

Fawkes, still standing about three feet to him and tilting his flashy head, had been watching his endeavours with cold interest.

If the bird was what saved him, then why in Salazar’s name wasn’t he completely healed? Why did Fawkes stop halfway, reviving him, but not fully restoring his ability to move?

_Even **his** **phoenix** can’t be bothered to properly cry upon my corpse, can it?_

Severus was not sure which was more peculiar – that the bird had returned, during the strife and for him, or that it did so with the sole purpose of torturing him for just a bit longer before he would die.

If Fawkes thought either of the sides would bother to find and aid him, then it was more of a birdbrain than he would have assumed. Although, knowing him and his late master, there was probably some sort of a secret plot behind this. What exactly – Severus had no idea. He had little time to ponder over it, because he started drifting away again. Aware he hadn’t drunk enough of the blood-replenishing potion, he allowed the returning darkness to take him, still hoping it could do that for good.

A soft crack tore the air inches from him and Severus woke up again.

He blinked a few times. Unfortunately, he was still in the Shack, with no prospects of nothingness; not even of eternal anguish in the purgatory, though the anguish itself – that was probably attainable. He looked around as much as he could without craning his neck. The room seemed empty. Whatever made the noise was either invisible, outside or standing exactly beside him.

A house elf with particularly big ears moved into his field of vision, confirming the last of his conjectures.

_What in Merlin’s name?!_

“Here, Headmaster, sir—” it announced, holding out two vials towards him.

The lack of understanding must have showed itself on his face. Bowing almost to the ground, the elf explained, “Calkey is bringing the vials, like sir was saying.”

Impossibly, his bafflement only grew. “I-I—“ _was saying?_ He failed to ask. His vocal cords were apparently still repudiating cooperation with his orders. _When? And most importantly – why?_

The last thing he remembered was the bird, staring at him callously as he struggled in moving his hands. Now the phoenix had disappeared without a trace and Severus’ arms were fully usable; the left one was already unwittingly stretched towards the elf.

Severus grasped the taller of the bottles – the thin vial with a violent canary yellow mixture inside it.

“Thank you – Calkey—” he managed to say.

The elf curtsied again, mutely.

The vial contained the antivenin, which he had his part in creating not so long ago for Arthur Weasley. Since then he had kept it (on Dumbledore’s orders) at the ready, should anyone else necessitate it outside of St.Mungo’s. He did not change that even lately, though during the last year it was unlikely anyone from the Order would have accepted so much as a water glass from him, not to say – what itself looked like a poison.

He hadn’t taken the antivenin with him here. Partly, because of his naive hope that his Lord valued him enough to make his death painless, but also because he had little motivation to save himself even if he would have such an option.

Now, it seemed that there was no need for it anymore. His brain was no longer hazy, his limbs minded his wishes, and his wounds had closed. Nevertheless, he downed the acidulous liquid under the elf’s attentive gaze. Then, he grabbed the other one, which was an energising potion.

He would later congratulate himself on drinking the antidote and his previous unconscious orders for the elf. It was as if Fawkes had never come to him. At least that was how he had to remember it whenever his Lord showed interest in those recollections.

Once done with that, he returned the bottles to the creature. Without another word, it disapparated, clearly considering its job done. _Calkey._ He made a mental note of interviewing the elf later.

Severus tapped his finger softly on the bite marks, palpable on the side of his neck. The pain he had been experiencing hadn’t vanish. However, instead of spilling all over him, it had restricted itself to just accumulating in this wound.

Gingerly, he leaned to lift his wand up. Now he could probably ( _hopefully)_ normally cast for it, but he needed to check whether he was physically capable of seizing it. Shockingly, bending did not send a wave of flames down his spine. Clutching the wand tightly, he wiped the smudges of blood off its handle on his robes.

He was still weak, but certainly not half as much as when he woke up before. Therefore, Severus resolved to see what was going on outside.

He explored blindly behind himself for a fulcrum until his fingers encountered a sill. Gripping it with all the might he could muster, Severus stood to his feet. The ground remained stable underneath them, which he took for a good sign.

The ruckus of the battlefield was still audible, so there still could be some use for him, some mortal danger to face and to die in. With that in mind, Severus staggered out of the Shack, wand first.

\---

A rustling somewhere close interrupted his reminiscing in search of anything that could cast a shade on his lack of resentment towards his Lord. Severus glanced about and noticed the silver powder of snow cascading from the nearest tree.

 _Lumos_ – he thought, immediately pointing his wand at the source of the susurrus. If it was any sort of creature, it had smelled him already anyways.

The path was guarded against the wolves and, apart from them, the Forest was rather desolate. Yet, there still could be other beings hiding in it. Most of them would not have his best interests at heart.

A black, skeletal head emerged from the darkness, white clouds rising from its nostrils, the pupil-less eyes squinting at his wand.

Severus lowered his hand with relief.

The Thestral shook its head slightly, to brush the snow off its mane. It stepped onto the road, revealing itself in its full eerie glory. The vast wings, resting along its body, were partly dipped in the snow, churning up white waves as the horse advanced towards him.

Ever since the Battle, the creatures had been getting far more attention from the students. Therefore, they had retreated deep into the thicket. Even long after dusk, they were rather reluctant to emerge into the clearing nearby the castle that they used to be fond of. Severus, however, made his acquaintance with them long ago and never completely abandoned it since. They had learned to greet him whenever he took the path crossing their territory.

Them staying after the Battle, saved Severus a lot of thinking up new measures to transport students. Grateful, he was showing them that at any possible occasion.

He put the light off and slipped the wand back into its place. Then, he stretched his open palm towards the Thestral. The horse let its head down a little and nicked his hair with its snout. Severus patted it gently, on the forehead, then continued down its slick, bony neck. The animal lowered its snout even more and pushed at his pocket, tugging lightly at the hem of it.

He was alone, so it must have expected a treat, since every now and then he’d bring them either dead sparrows or rats. That habit was at least partly responsible for Thestrals’ affection for him. This time, despite not carrying Teddy, he had nothing to offer the creature. During his hasty exertions to get to his Lord on time, the thought to take some dead rodents with him had not crossed his mind.

Having inspected his pocket and deduced that the lack of the crystal box in it meant it would not receive any snacks, raised its head again and looked at him, disappointed.

To his apologetic shrug, the Thestral graciously let him run his fingers through its mane again. Then, it turned away and daintily strutted back between the trees.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next time Remus woke up, it was because a Death Eater entered the bedroom.

Thankfully – it was **the** Death Eater.

Severus’ attempt at being quiet, while indeed carried out fastidiously – Remus was only pulled out of sleep by the sound of the bathroom door opening – was doomed to failure. Although he had, admittedly, been sleeping, it was on tenterhooks. Subconsciously, he had been listening in for the smallest of noises, in case it spelled uninvited, armed guests.

A deep breath assured him that it was none other than Severus. The whiff of air he took consisted of sassafras, ash and a note he couldn’t quite identify, though which he knew belonged to an animal.

After a while, the door opened again. Remus still hadn’t fallen back asleep, though it hadn’t been long. The faint cloud of scents had changed a bit, though not dissipated into ones of soap and tea leaves – Severus, apparently, couldn’t be bothered to take a shower now.

Instead of stopping on Severus’ side of the bed, the muted steps continued as he went around it. They died down not too far from Remus, presumably at the cradle. Indeed, when he opened his eyes, the tall figure of Severus was standing by the crib. The black curtain of hair concealed Severus’ face as he leaned to the child.

 _He hadn’t had his chance to say goodnight to Teddy before..._ – Remus noted, with a strange wave of warmth rising in his chest while Severus murmured to the kid.

Soon, Severus straightened up again. For a moment, he stood transfixed, staring through the gap between the curtains. He looked exceptionally scrawny, probably thanks to the combination of shadows and his nightshirt, which fit him like a horse’s saddle on a Thestral.

 _A Thestral!_ Remus realised this was the creature whose scent was brought into the room with Snape’s arrival. Come to think of it, Severus smelled like that every now and then after the walks he took with Teddy too.

Upon that realisation, some would probably have objected to their child being so close to the ominous creatures. Remus, however, didn’t mind that any more than he did the painted Thestral running through the picturesque scenery of dark woods hanging in the kitchen. Teddy was already spending most of his time in the proximity of a murderer and a werewolf. Remus doubted a horse-like animal the kid didn’t even see, could have any more detrimental impact on Teddy’s fate or development than the two of them. Thestrals weren’t dangerous to him either, definitely not with the always wand-hand ready Snape around.

Now Severus turned away from the window and cast a glance towards Remus’ bedside table. His eyes lingered on it for a moment, likely – registering the significance of the Map. Then, they swept onto Remus, who blinked in the wrong moment and gave himself away. He closed his eyes back, hurriedly. Yet, feeling Severus’ undeceived gaze fixed relentlessly upon him, he soon yielded in the childish attempt to hoodwink him.

Finally, Remus met his survey boldly and with a slight smile. He was, however, feeling heat massing in his cheeks, due to the awkwardness of being caught awake in this exact scenario. Severus could, after all, presume he hadn’t been sleeping at all earlier. Whatever he inferred from that, Remus would probably soon hear in the form of jeering.

Severus was still standing by the window, with arms crossed on his chest. As far as Remus could tell in the faintest of lights coming from the greyness outside, he was flushed too. After all, he had just been caught and observed being ‘unnecessarily’ nice to the child.

Just as Remus had guessed, Severus was unable to deny himself the barb. “Losing sleep over my fate, Lupin?” he said softly and with a considerable amount of sarcasm, as Remus propped himself up on the bed to speak.

“Not quite.” Remus grinned wider, though thankful for his beard and the darkness for covering up the redness of his skin. “—You simply can’t close the doors quietly enough for a werewolf not to hear it, Severus. Though I’m glad you escaped with life and limb, I’m not going to lie.”

“Likewise—“ he replied, taking the chair from beside the desk. Before sitting down, he turned it around so that he would face Lupin.

Curiously, Remus followed him with his eyes, questioning himself why the man wasn’t going to sleep yet. Next, Severus cast a nonverbal spell on Teddy. No sooner had Remus opened his mouth to demand an explanation, than he said, soothingly, “Just a Muffliato. The white noise should keep him asleep while I’ll be speaking just over his head.”

 _And what will you be speaking of? –_ Remus didn’t ask, waiting for that mystery to solve itself on its own. Based on Remus’ experience, in the early morning hours, Severus was somewhat more expansive than the usual. Still, it was better not to throw him off that with an ill-timed question. Later, maybe.

Severus, reclining in the chair as the loose nightshirt folded at his shins, began speaking in an airy tone. “I suppose you would like to know what directives my Lord has given me and why I have been held up for so long.”

Remus nodded mutely, quite flabbergasted Snape was offering him such information completely on his own. He wouldn’t now dare wonder why he hadn’t done so earlier or what prompted this sudden openness, though the latter was most likely connected to the abruptness of the summoning.

“You will need to familiarise yourself with the memories – which I suppose you may do tomorrow – to have full understanding of it all, however...”

Severus spoke for a long while, uninterrupted but for Remus’ ‘ums’ and ‘mhms’ of acknowledgement. Thankfully, Remus wasn’t sleepy at the moment. What Severus wished to recount to him could even take until sunrise, as long as he was concerned.

At long last, it was revealed to Remus how Severus had expected Voldemort to remain in the shadows for a little longer (with the enigmatic reason of “the memories will tell you more”). He also found out the Lord had not contacted either him or most other Eaters before, except for through a messenger.

Then, Severus went on to the orders Voldemort gave him recently. Remus shuddered, if just a little, at “And to finally murder what’s left of the werewolf-escapees in the Forest.” He might have projected the slight tremulousness onto Severus’ voice at that point.

Apart from that – it was mostly security matters concerning the school. From the looks of it, the Dark Lord was starting to prepare for another war. Severus expressed his hopes that he’d manage to find “someone incompetent enough” to safely take care of the Hogwarts owlery in terms of checking the incoming post. Luckily, his crow was going to remain above such laws either way.

Eventually, Severus got to describing why he had been away for so long – the waiting for his Lord to approach him. Though he did not admit to anything of the sort, Remus was sure he must have been overcome with fear all the while during. He himself was a little apprehensive even now. The notion Voldemort could suspect Severus of _something,_ was blood-curdling. Thus, this was the only instance when Remus interjected.

“He does still trust you, doesn’t he?” he asked earnestly.

“The Dark Lord does not trust me as much as I would wish him to.” Severus responded, lifting up his hand to pinch his nose. “But I am hoping to prove my loyalty to my Master—“ he added, by the sound of it – with particular sourness in his mouth. “—And it has nothing to do with you, thankfully.”

Hearing the causes of Voldemort’s mistrustfulness towards Severus would be too much of a good thing, Remus supposed. Nevertheless, he tried, “Why doesn’t he? Or – why you think so?”

Severus exhaled deeply, as if summoning all his might – or patience. “My Lord intended to kill me, during the Battle of Hogwarts—“

 _Did he?!_ Remus looked at him wide-eyed, possibly letting out a gasp. He was intensively and frantically musing over how in Merlin’s name anyone could have survived that, and how it hadn’t come up ever before. _Well – intentionally, that’s how..._ – he reckoned, with a bit of indignation.

Though he hadn’t meant it that way, Severus must have interpreted his reaction as that of disbelief, since he decided to show proof to his statement. “—I acquired this nice souvenir then.” He gestured to his neck and brushed away the strands of hair covering its right side. It was impossible for Remus to see clearly from his position. His nostrils, however, were hit with a fresh portion of the scent, which was so inseparable from Severus ever since the day Remus woke up from the coma.

“So that’s what’s the sassafras for!” he said out loud, assuming that for such a remark he’d earn himself a pitying glance he wouldn’t be able to distinguish.

Severus just inclined his head towards him. “Indeed. You do possess quite a bit of herbological knowledge to pair with that sense of smell of yours—“ he said, with a mix of surprise and appreciation. “That and golden shower tree’s bark prove useful—“

“—For snake bites. So it was Nagini.” Remus cut in with his guess.

“10 points to Gryffindor. Or from, for interrupting me.” Judging by the tone (more than the blurry features of his face), Severus was smirking.

Remus, for his part, smiled demurely into the darkness. He didn’t need the recognition for such a meagre thing, but he did value it, since Snape wasn’t exactly known to pour it on. Actually, this was possibly the only thing Remus had heard from him that could classify as a compliment, though even it was embellished with derision. _For sneer’s the foundation of his character, isn’t it?_

Meanwhile, Severus continued, “—It is a long story, but the essence of it is that my Lord surveys my every step – or so He believes – because I remain a dead-man walking. And, to the dismay of the both of us, not an Inferi—“ he added, switching to a tone that suggested great amusement about the matter. Apart from that remark, however, Severus’ voice was cold and detached. “He, in His fixation on immortality and limited understanding of the human nature, marvels at how I do not hold that against Him. While, frankly – I am surprised I do not hold **my survival** against Him.”

Severus had just come as close to outright deriding Voldemort as Remus had ever heard him, Order meetings included, and, _of course,_ it was on this topic out of all the options.

“You seem very friendly with the concept of death...” Remus discerned gingerly. To no imminent reaction, so he went on, “Hanging around Thestrals, this, and what you told me soon after I woke up from the coma – that you had wished for it. I mean...“ he said, even more meekly, realising he wasn’t certain where he was going with this, “—well... I think I mean to say I understand that, to some extent. Only—“

But he didn’t get to finish his thought, because Severus, completely ignoring that he was being spoken to, stood up from his seat and put it back behind the desk. He didn’t grace Remus with so much as a glance, not to say – an ‘excuse me’. Therefore, Remus broke off, quite affronted. With a surge of vexation coursing through him, he twisted to rearrange his pillows. Then, he slumped back into them and closed his eyes, meanwhile hearing Snape’s strides leading to the opposite side of the bed.

The mattress creaked quietly as Severus sat down. “Acceptance hardly equals friendliness. But yes, fairly cordial, at this point—“ he said suddenly. His voice then sank extremely low, as if he didn’t really want Remus to hear it, though it retained its flat timbre. “—or at least – I dearly wished to die, a good couple of times. Like after the first war, obviously.”

 _Yes, obviously._ – Remus agreed inwardly, nodding instinctively, while thinking of how that time period looked for him personally. Their reasons, at least back then, differed widely, from what he could guess. Still, just as he had declared, he could understand it; better, probably, than he would have wanted to. To some extent, he had sensed this from Severus long before.

“—And it was nearly an obsession of mine, last year. Death, however, has been consistent in rejecting my advances, often with significant meddling of none other than Albus Dumbledore...” Severus gave a quiet, acidic cackle at the end.

Remus opened his eyes and saw him still sitting on the verge of the four-poster, not very far from himself. The bed retained proportions dissimilar from a normal one’s, though right now it was close to those. Severus had placed his hand on the duvet for support and was twisting his upper body towards Remus. When Remus countered his stare, he jerked back abruptly. He composed himself swiftly and soon enough his statue-like motionlessness returned.

“Do you – still?” It was a doltish, invasive question to ask and Remus had no idea why he did so. He simply hadn’t thought it through in time. The words hung in the air, stranded and lonesome, since Remus instantly resolved not to risk worsening them by adding anything else.

After another prolonged pause, in which Severus was the one to break their stare-bout, tilting his head towards the window instead, the silky whisper returned more firmly, “Rarely, but yes. If only to disturb the old goat’s eternal peace...” He abandoned the sentence, possibly with the intention of seeming indifferent to the subject.

Each time Severus mentioned the deceased Headmaster, his voice sounded hollow. The spiteful name he just tried to cover that up with, only further exposed how much he wasn’t impassive about this. Remus could hear the echo of his grief in the snark. He knew Severus, too, must have been grateful and very close – likely closer than he was, with the Headmaster. He was also aware what it meant when grief melted together with guilt.

Therefore, Remus had the instinctive impulse to offer emotional support through touching. It was closely followed by the conscious reaction to stop himself just short of it. His outstretched hand fell limply on the duvet. Apparently, it did that less than an inch from Severus’, since a second later Remus’ fingers unintentionally grazed the rough outside of his hand.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected to transpire, probably – for Snape to jump away like a scalded bat. Severus, however, didn’t so much as recoil. He sat still, with eyes trained on what they couldn’t see beyond the heavy curtains on the window.

_Maybe he simply hadn’t noticed._

Remus almost wanted to prove to himself that he would recoil, that he wouldn’t accept a friendly touch from him, _from Lupin the past bully, from a werewolf,_ and so he put his hand on Severus’. His was cold, certainly colder that the cotton surface of the duvet. The chapped, maybe frostbitten, skin was coarse against Remus’ palm when he tangled his own, warm fingers, with Severus’ frigid ones, still perplexed by the lack of backlash.

Severus probably winced the way he did when they were forced to apparate together (and every so often when their hands accidentally brushed while handing Teddy to each other). Reassuringly, the fall of crow-black hair was obscuring that from Remus’ view.

After a moment of silence, very slowly, Severus turned his head to look at their hands, standing out in white amongst the black ocean of the duvet. Speaking in their, and not Remus’, direction, he said, earnestly and without striving to sound nonchalant anymore, “Not wanting to die... is, to some degree, easier with a cause. And responsibility for others’ survival is a rather motivating purpose, thus serves well in that role. But I suppose **you** know that—“

 _Does he mean what I think he means? Is he implying, ever so lightly, he might have killed himself, hadn’t it been for me and Teddy? –_ Remus wondered. Unable to fully restrain his curiosity, he looked at him searchingly.

Severus still wasn’t meeting his gaze. It was hard to work out the expression on his face from the side and in the twilight. Not that it would have given Remus much to see his features, inscrutable as they often were…

“I believe I do—” Remus meanwhile admitted. There was a certain bitterness palpable on his tongue at the very thought of not having Teddy around to keep him occupied and driven to survive.

Another moment passed, without either of them shifting or disturbing the quietness. Finally, Severus slid his hand from underneath Remus’. Then, however, now from above, he gave a soft squeeze to it – as if to acknowledge the touch hadn’t been incidental, and only after that withdrew it completely.

This at least was now settled – Severus would be capable of, say, shaking his hand, without shaking with disgust.

 _And what did you think, that he’d bite your hand off?_ Remus marvelled chidingly to himself, though soon a reasonable retort to that came to him as well – _No, but I thought he would fear I could have bitten his._

In once again undisturbed silence, because Remus didn’t want to scare him off from talking if he wished to continue, Severus lied down on the bed. Now they were further away from each other again and Severus had drawn the hangings on his side. They shadows swallowed most his face, still turned in Remus’ direction. Most that Remus could see on it in the darkness was the stray wisp of hair, twisting against his skin like a crack in gypsum.

“Goodnight Remus,” Severus said simply, before turning his back at him.

“Goodnight Severus.”

Despite the words, Remus’ body must have conjectured he was planning to start the day already and sleep refused to come to him. Laying on his back, he stared into the greyish insides of the canopy, trying to at least tire his eyes.

After a longer while, having gauged by the breathing that he wasn’t the only one battling a burst of insomnia, Remus whispered timidly into the darkness, “Severus?”

A rustle of the covers pre-empted the answer. “Yes?” the man drawled quite sleepily.

“May I ask you something?”

“But of course—“ Severus was no longer as sombre as before and the drowsiness only amplified his sarcasm, if that was even possible. “—sleeping is certainly not what I would prefer to talking to yourself—“

“If it isn’t so, then you’ve undermined that point quite thoroughly tonight.” Remus noted shrewdly.

Severus sighed with defeat.

Remus took that as an invitation to finally utter the question which had been badgering him for a greater part of today’s evening since Snape’s departure, and had recently fully crystallized in his mind. “So, tell me – was the bed thing partly caused by preparing for V-the Dark Lord’s intrusion into your mind? And is it somehow possible to block me out from your memories as a person, but harder if you had to take into account the little things, like how rooms look?”

“You are really determined to earn yourself an E today, aren’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“Exceeds Expectations. You managed to figure this out before the Dark Lord could fall from power, which certainly exceeds my expectations for you.” Severus taunted. “Thanks Circe I have taught my part to Frankie too, because you and Occlumency are not that well—“ he said, in a tone that implied he meant ‘at all’, “—acquainted with each other, are you?”

“Oh will you stop jabbing at me!“ Remus stage-whispered with feigned outrage, “You were supposedly in a hurry to fall asleep, but I don’t see you stinting on the sneering. Besides, I am not the master-Occlumens around here – or I weren’t last time I checked, at least. So how am I supposed to know those things, Severus? Half of your books on it used to be illegal.”

“Some of them still are—” Severus corrected. “But yes, it is possible to ‘lie’ in such a way, and much easier when you do not have copious amounts of details to erase along with the main secret.”

“Thanks for the information then. Even if I did have to wait – five – six months for it.” Remus couldn’t (although he didn’t really strain himself too much in order to) quell the note of facetious reproach in his voice.

Severus, who had previously been speaking with his just his neck craned towards Remus in a highly uncomfortable-looking manner, now partly turned to him again. Gaze darker than the room itself swept through the heap of pillows Remus’ head was resting on; then met his eyes. “Good things come to those who... and other utter nonsense, Lupin.” Less harshly, Severus went on, “I was not in the frame of mind to talk about it back when you asked, and it never came up again.”

“Hmm... guess why could that be...” Remus wondered sardonically. “Definitely not because you refused to tell me twice or even thrice in a row, I don’t quite remember.”

“Touché.” Severus adorned his response with another deep sigh and appended, “But I am trying, Remus.” What exactly he was trying to do, he didn’t specify, leaving Remus to assume that he meant –‘to share what I know with you’. The evidence of the day spoke in favour of that assumption.

“Good—” Remus assessed with a soft grin. “Then I’ll disturb you no more for now, Severus. ‘Night, again.”

\---

Indeed, after that exchange he did not pester Snape any more, even though they both seemed to have a problem falling asleep.

Severus’ breathing steadied into one indicating slumber not long before sunlight began sluggishly creeping through the slit between the curtains. Remus, on the other hand, saw the sunrise still fully awake. Only after it, having drawn his part of the awning to avoid further rousing himself with the light, he managed to achieve that goal too.

He woke up after what felt like minutes. Now, paradoxically, he did feel tired.

Severus was still asleep. Although he wanted to continue doing the same thing, Remus forced himself to scramble out of the bed and go to the kitchen. There, Frankie was bustling around. The clank of the kettle and a milk bottle was accompanied by soft hooting and clicking of beaks.

Teddy was sitting on his silver carpet, currently beside the Christmas tree and was smothering two of his plush birds – the stork and the new owl, in turns.

Ajax, who was sitting on one of the chairs’ backs, was observing the child, possibly content he had avoided Teddy’s displays of affection. From the looks of him, the bird had just been outside. The feathers on his head were stuck to his skull as if wet from the melted snow. When Remus entered, he flew upwards with a loud flutter, drawing the others’ attention to him.

“Oh – sir Remus – Frankie was thinking sir would be waking up finally.” The elf said, turning from the counter.

_Finally? Just how late is it, exactly?_

Remus shot a slightly apprehensive look at the clock. It was well past noon – past one, even.

 _Oh goodness gracious, that’s why I feel like I’ve transformed yesterday_ – he reckoned, realising he had far overslept his normal waking hours. Either way, as he stretched and went up to Teddy to hug him, his energy was returning to him quickly, probably even in the form of slight agitation.

It was rather odd, however, that Severus hadn’t woken up yet. Remus pondered over it briefly and came to the conclusion he must have forgotten to set the alarm on his wand the night before.

The elf definitely knew at what hour Severus and Teddy were supposed to arrive at the manor. Yet, she had let that slip her mind. Remus suspected her forgetfulness to be deliberate. After all, the rage of her current master for such neglect hardly compared to the brutality of her former one, from what he knew and had inferred.

“Frankie, I believe that you, Severus and Teddy are to be somewhere at two o’clock, don’t you remember?” he reminded her. “And I think Severus is still very much asleep.”

On that note, Frankie jumped a little in place, as if he had shouted at her. Next, however, she carried on her endeavours by the kitchenette until Teddy had received his drink and the kettle had been set for Remus’ tea.

When Severus eventually emerged through the door to the bedroom, shortly preceded by the popping sound of Frankie’s apparition back at the counter, he seemed thoroughly exhausted.

“Hi, Severus—“ Remus greeted him, with a teacup already in his hand.

“Hello—” he responded, in a listless tone which explicitly announced he was distressed by having been forced to wake up at all.

Frankie’s training in lying and such was apparently working, though against her Master. She clearly had failed to inform him about the hour as well, because when Severus shot a glance at the clock, his expression changed from tired to aghast.

In a now cold voice interwoven with fury, Severus ordered Frankie to prepare him coffee. With contrasting, affected calm, he waved to Teddy, who had since tried to crawl his way to greet him. Then, he stormed out of the room.

Remus was rather sure that, in his haste, he wouldn’t remember to give him the Pensieve. Surprisingly, he was mistaken.

It was already past two o’clock, when Severus strode into the library, where Remus had been reading to an already ‘elegantly’ dressed Teddy.

Since through the half-ajar door it was impossible not to have heard him stomping towards the room, Remus’ head turned towards the entrance a moment before Snape rose on the doorstep. Now full-dress, in velvet robes with glinting buttons, he bettered Teddy’s silvery kid robe in the area of glistening. Even his hair contributed to that, shining in its blackness. He also smelled of probably-perfume, though due to its pine and herbal composition it could have easily passed for random potion ingredients.

Remus felt an out-of-place sting that Severus had not put as much effort into his presence when it was just him and Teddy he was celebrating with. He decided it was best to ignore it altogether.

Severus brought the decorative basin along with a few other vials. Those, judging by the letters A.D. that flashed on their labels as he was taking them out, contained memories of the previous Headmaster. “The Albus’ ones you might be already mindful of – and I haven’t exactly seen them—“ Severus informed, confirming his conjecture. “—but they are shorter than the others, so I suppose it won’t harm you to look through them.”

“Thanks—“ Remus said simply, putting away the book (to the kid’s dismay). Teddy had just grasped that something was up and had adapted a wide-eyed, curious expression. Remus turned him around in his lap and kissed him on the forehead. “Have fun and behave at the manor, Teddy.” The child caught his chin in his little hand, then drew it back quickly, possibly scratched by his beard.

Once Teddy had blabbered back at him, Remus raised his gaze from his beaming face. Severus was desperately trying to cover up having found the scene endearing by looking surly and impatiently tapping his fingers on the waist of his robe.

A bit amused by his awkwardness, Remus smiled at him while handing him Teddy. “You have fun too.”

“May I, at least, not behave, then?” Severus queried with irony.

“You’re not **my** kid, so I’d think so—“ Remus grinned a tad more playfully, laying a stress on the word. Teddy, who was watching him from the level of Severus’ embrace, reciprocated the smile. “Just for the love of Merlin, don’t get sloshed, please.” Not that he had ever seen Snape really drunk – Remus presumed his developed tolerance was too high for that to happen. Yet, it could always be the first time (and Remus certainly would rather it wasn’t).

“I am going to the Malfoys, not to the ‘The Hog’s Head’, Lupin.” Severus discerned, before turning to walk out of the library with the kid in his arms.

Thus, Remus was left alone to examine the information he had finally been given access to. In a few hours Frankie would interrupt him to call him to eat and he knew that was likely to feel sooner than it really would be. However, apart from that little, planned disturbance, he had time until the evening.

He didn’t have much of an experience with Pensieves, though he had used them before. Either way, he assuredly opened the first of the A.D.-labelled vials. Then, having filled it with the mist-like substance, he plunged his head into the basin.


	12. The Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With sincere hope that I did the Malfoys some justice: 

The Manor was usually cold in winter, except for the higher levels. Therefore, both Teddy and Severus were wearing cloaks, even though they had not stuck out either of their noses to the frost reigning outside.

Apparently, not one day of the holidays could pass without haste. The hurry from before was also the reason why Severus had not yet pondered over his yesterday’s confiding in Lupin. Now there was not much time for that either. As soon as he took off his travelling cloak and threw it to an elf, who had since appeared at his feet, a door opened further in the corridor. Severus strode towards it. He had to grab Teddy’s hand to placate him, because when he saw who came out to greet them, the kid began crowing fractiously.

“Hello Severus. You are late.” Lucius was standing in the hall, wearing a dark green robe embossed with ivy leaves, and a contrived smile.

 _How very observant of you._ “Forgive me, Lucius. I was stalled a little, yesterday evening—“ he explained, positioning Teddy’s carrier so that he had his right hand free for a greeting.

The blond man looked at him studiously. Calculation of Severus’ possible transgressions against the Lord reflecting in the steel eyes, he shook his hand. “Well then—“ he started, but was quickly interrupted.

“Why are you not inviting our guest inside, darling? We have introductions to make.” From behind him emerged Cissa, looking like she had swept down from one of the overly-flattering magical portraits which decorated the walls around them. _But when had she ever not._

The flowy jacket with embroided jasmine flowers revealed only some of the dark material beneath it. Her gown widened below it, hugging her silhouette less tightly than it did over the waist. The fabric draped gently over her arms, visible through the see-through cover. It was an impressive, though familiar dress. She had appeared in it a few times already, but this was not an event, which deserved a lot of her effort. Severus, as a guest, certainly didn’t.

Her hair, still double-coloured, bounced in a braided updo; with two deliberately omitted locks framing her face. The signature scarlet decorated her lips, curved in a studied smile. Yet, her eyes glistened sincerely and, for a mere moment, they glistened for him. “Hello, Severus. Hello, Teddy.”

“Hello, Narcissa.” He inclined his head slightly. He always did, to her. At least unless he was able to kiss her hand, which in the presence of her husband would be a rather hazardous idea.

She did not find it fit to properly greet him either. Looking genially at Teddy in his arms, she didn’t so much as shake Severus’ hand. It was understandable, perhaps, when there were people waiting for them. Other guests, who nobody had bothered to inform him about earlier.

“You, elf, check if everything’s prepared for the kid, then make yourself useful in the kitchens.” Cissa ordered Frankie for him. The house elf listened to her former Mistress without arguing and disapparated.

Under Narcissa’s lead, they entered the drawing room.

As Severus noticed, it had been rearranged. In the centre, an enormous Christmas tree was standing. Decorated with glistening icicles and silver tinsels, it dominated the room. At its side, a table had been set.

The less formal part of the room was arranged on the opposite side. It offered sitting area on the sofas and armchairs huddled around fireplace. On the sofa directly in front of the ingle, two people were lounging. Now, hearing them enter, they both stood up.

Severus watched them as they awkwardly manoeuvred between the tea table and chairs, heading to them four.

The mysterious guest was the Greengrass, who he had met a few months ago. Since then, she had become inseparable with Draco at the Slytherin table. Her blond locks were pinned up, as if to imitate Narcissa’s hairstyle (either by chance or by design). The green dress barely reached her knees. Knowing his views on non-traditional clothing, that must have been positively aggravating for Lucius.

Probably to match her confection, Draco was wearing an emerald-coloured robe. This made him a spitting image of his father. The only differences were the hair and the amount of silver rings on his hand, with which he grabbed the girl’s left one when they came to a halt before the adults.

“While I am rather sure the young lady here knows you, a second introduction – on neutral ground – would be seemly, I believe.” Narcissa said ceremonially, casting a glance at the two and then turning to him.

Her son, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to introduce the girl to Severus himself and, simultaneously, as if he found the whole exchange of courtesies completely superfluous. The girl, however, was feeling plucky enough not to need anyone’s assistance. “Astoria Greengrass, sir, now Draco’s girlfriend—“ she announced, extending her hand towards him.

“Severus Snape, here a friend of the family, although some insist on calling me professor even still.” He threw a jokingly scolding look towards the young Malfoy. The boy smirked in response.

Draco’s (fairly recently gained) respect towards him was expressed by the insistence on calling him official titles. It stood in harsh opposition to what he used to do, back when Snape was still just his Head of House. Severus was rather sure that had nothing to do with his ‘promotion’. It began too soon after a certain _‘incident’_ concerning Albus Dumbledore to be a coincidence, but he preferred to make light of it, as if that wasn’t the root of this new habit. Draco played along.

“Hello, professor Snape—“ he now greeted without missing a beat. Only momentarily letting go of Astoria’s hand, he bumped Teddy’s fist and shook Severus’ hand.

The girl smiled. “And this is?” she asked, taking a step so that she would face Teddy.

Deciding it was high time he ceased looking like a ludicrous mother-gorilla of some thin sort of those, Severus waved his wand, taking Teddy out of the carrier and into his arms. The black sling flew away, onto the nearest velvet armchair. As usual, the kid grinned widely at the display of magic, flailing his arms around in excitement. He didn’t chortle. Thankfully so, because already Severus’ eye caught the view of Lucius. He was leaning on his cane with a lofty frown painted on his high forehead. Lucius did not grace the kid with his gaze. It omitted Teddy, instead piercing Severus chidingly and then turning back onto Draco and his companion.

The rest, however, seemed amused by Teddy’s reaction. “This is Edward—“ Severus introduced, lowering the kid towards the two of his students. 

“—Also goes by the name of Teddy—” Narcissa added.

“Hello Teddy. I’m Astoria.“ the girl said sweetly, letting the child’s fingers curl around hers.

“Well then, if all of you are ready—“ Lucius began. He sounded irritable, though it was likely that only ‘the family’ was able to catch that subtle difference in his tone. “—Let us move to the table.”

Cissa must have been determined not to show any signs of disagreement before the young guest. She did not send her husband a glower, settling for flashing a conniving glance at Severus, who met her eyes. Lucius was fortunately blind to that exchange.

Then, they all followed his invitation.

The Master of the manor sat at the top of the table, with his son on his left and wife on the right. Arguably – against the etiquette, both the guests had been left to the other end of the table. This was presumably for the better. However, it also meant Lucius was facing ‘the thing’, whose existence he was still ignoring altogether.

Soon the plates filled themselves with sumptuous food. There were roast quail, pheasant pies and braised pork, announced almost boastfully by Lucius as they appeared. A glided peacock made of marzipan, with three real feathers stuck in it, served as decoration.

Fortunately for his pride, Severus was spared the ordeal of feeding Teddy with an audience. Frankie bustled around the kid, helping him out with his special meal. This only increased Lucius’ deliberate lack of acknowledgement of ‘what’ was in front of him. Astoria, however, seated opposite Severus, didn’t mind the neighbouring kid-chair or its occupant. She even turned to Teddy a few times during a meal. Shooting him bright smiles or making faces, she seemed genuinely unembarrassed by anyone else seeing that.

With implicit disrelish, but deftly, Lucius engaged them all in conversation. He was paying special attention to allowing Draco’s guest to speak more than anyone else.

Astoria was talkative all right. However, she did possess the restraint typical for a girl from a fine family. Having been taught such things at home, she controlled her tone strictly. Knowing she lacked the ability to lie to anyone with the slightest clue about Legilimency, Severus began suspecting the seating arrangement might have been Draco’s initiative.

Even with the advantage of filtering what thoughts she was revealing, she could still be too earnest. She told them for example, about her wish to practice for a healer position, despite not having the need for a gainful occupation. That caught Narcissa’s attention, impressing her visibly, so Astoria let herself fall deep into the topic. When a shadow of a wince swept through the face of her prospective father-in-law, she amended that this, “of course”, would only be short-timed and a sort of hobby.

About two hours of what passed for ‘pleasant conversation’ in some circles ( _but deserved the name of ‘an inferno’_ ) went through. After that time, the composition of the table changed. Now only desserts and matching wine filled it.

Meanwhile Teddy had finished both eating and playing with his food. Him becoming crankier was the cue for Frankie to take him upstairs.

Severus had found it possible to talk with the two of his students in the superficial and polite manner, which was expected of them here. With focus on the subject of Potions, they carried a conversation about school and schoolwork for an impressive amount of time. Despite that, he breathed with ease only when the ‘kids’ left. Under the pretence of wanting to play with Teddy, the followed in Frankie’s wake.

Upon their exit, the adult couple instantly became more relaxed. Judging by that, they had been longing for the same thing to happen. However, as it turned out later, each for varying reasons.

As the footsteps on the staircase died away, Lucius locked the door with a spell. “It wasn’t supposed to be **this** Greengrass—“ he then griped, without preamble.

Narcissa shrugged. “You know Draco doesn’t tell me much, these days… He didn’t specify. I assumed it would be the other one – she is the Head Girl, isn’t she, Severus?”

Severus had been staring at a painting and repeating to himself why he had to suffer through their family quarrels of the sort that was currently stirring. He moved his eyes from the dragon’s depiction hanging above the two, now empty, chairs and looked at her blandly. “Which one?”

“Daphne, of course—“ Cissa clarified.

“—Yes, she is. A dexterous student and competent in her duties, from all I can say. Why is her sister any worse, however, if I may ask?” Severus directed his, devoid of keen interest, question at Lucius.

“She carries a blood curse—“ Lucius answered at once and rather loudly. In response to his wife’s gaze, he lowered his voice continuing, “—allegedly at least. Besides – you’ve seen her. Displays absolutely no regard for tradition. Not to even delve into all she has said – the greeting. First with us, then with you... Would not even give a curtsy! Frankly, outrageous, under such a name, the way she behaves. As if she had already assumed she was family.” Lucius spoke gesturing unconstrainedly and flourishing the goblet in his right hand. “I am not going to allow him to marry someone of this sort. It would tarnish the name, that’s for one, but above all – she is not suitable for him, I say.”

Severus quelled a condescending smirk at his indignation.

On him, the girl made a good impression. Even combined with the shier first one, from a few months ago, it presented itself well. She might have been paying little heed to the unwritten social protocol, but she wasn’t impudent. More importantly – Draco was gazing at her in a throughout the whole meal. It was in a supposedly discreet manner, but both the act and his admiration were obvious. Trying to persuade him to choose anyone else could only result in a great feud; not that this wasn’t exactly what Severus would expect between this father and son. Notwithstanding, this was certainly a fresh thing and the girl herself was young. Therefore, time could help out more than bickering would have.

Narcissa must have been thinking along the same lines. When Lucius was taking a sip, she cut in. “—Yes, of course, but he’s not going to marry her tomorrow, is he?”

Her husband’s lip quirked when he put away the goblet, as if he was planning to argue. Cissa placated him, putting a hand on his. “She might mature. The Greengrass themselves are very respectable, after all, and she already takes after her mother in looks, hopefully she will in character as well. She’s not even seventeen yet. The blood curse, meanwhile, I am sure I will be able to find out more about, now that we know it is Astoria he’d chosen. Clarice Parkinson is coming for tea before New Year’s and knowing how she is – she’s doubtlessly well versed in. I will be too, by the time she’s on her second scone.”

As if sensing his support on the matter, she glanced at Severus, encouraging him to add his pennyworth. He had not mastered the art of refusing those serene blue eyes for the last two decades. Hence why he complied. “Give it time, Lucius, and the issue might solve itself. One thing is certain – if you try to confront him on it now, he will likely only turn more wilful. You might unintentionally generate yourselves a problem greater than this should be.”

Lucius considered him closely for a moment. Then, his gaze travelled back to his wife. “Well, both of you are correct, I suppose. Just – it escapes me why couldn’t it be the other one. They even look the same – based on what I have been able to see of the other one in Draco’s school photographs.”

 _‘Even’? Now which of us are you trying to deceive, resident vain person of the Malfoy Manor?_ Severus marvelled, hiding his mouth behind his cup with coffee, in case another stray, amused smirk made its way onto it.

He was lucky not to have taken a gulp from it, however, because Narcissa, in a mellow tone with a hint of preciousness, said, “Love, darling, love. It’s quite blind, so no wonder that similarity between them doesn’t play a significant role.”

Severus took a peep at her to check whether she was intending this as a jest. Unfortunately, her expression was serious and far too affectionate for his liking. He only now noticed that the two had colour-coordinated just like the young couple did. Here, however, it was more subtle. Cissa’s necklace and earrings consisted of jewels, which, as the light from the outside gradually became fainter, had just taken the exact hue of her husband’s robe.

“Yes, well… Perhaps—” Lucius agreed. With the indulgent smile at Cissa’s words still stuck to his lips, he addressed Snape again. “En passant, Severus, our apologies for not informing you about the second guest. We weren’t informed either, but for yesterday evening. With that weather it would be unwise to send you an owl.”

Before he could respond that it was no matter, Lucius added, “Couldn’t exactly tell you when we saw each other, either. Now then, what happened that stalled you last night, Severus?”

“Nothing I could put my finger on. Just a matter of sequence, I assume. But you would have to ask the Dark Lord Himself what His precise intent was...“ Severus began, missing the truth only narrowly. Lately, it was the custom between him and Lucius to exchange information. Thus, now he planned to recount some of the Lord’s orders and ‘advices’ from yesterday (despite His spell – barely any of them were secret to the Minister), hoping for the same in return. “I have been told—“

Narcissa shifted in her chair, as if about to leave them alone to their conversation. She had probably guessed it was now bound to steer towards politics. Then, an elf appeared.

Severus left the sentence hanging, but it was Lucius who looked like he had been interrupted. He glared daggers at the creature when it began to speak, in a squeaky, hurried voice. “M-Master, sir Rodolphus Lestrange is here. He is saying he has to see you now – he is waiting, in the corridor he is.”

The elf disappeared instantly upon relaying the message. Either it did so to inflict some punishment upon itself for upsetting its Master or to avoid said Master doing that for it.

“Rodolphus?” Lucius repeated, grabbing his cane resting by the chair and standing up. “Well then, if you excuse me—“ he said quite apologetically to the two of them, sliding out his wand. “—I will be upstairs for a while. If I have to leave with him, I’ll send the elf.” Having opened the oak door, he strode out in quick steps.

This Lestrange, as of late, was extremely bad news, at least for a Death Eater wishing to finish their black currant jelly in peace. He was the closest servant of the Dark Lord. Rodolphus was ideal for that role as an extremely loyal follower, who had absolutely nothing else but Him to serve. This meant he was the one whose Mark was used yesterday to initiate the summoning. He also was the messenger from the Lord Himself, on the rare occasion when He found it imperative to contact His underlings.

Just like Lucius had mentioned, this could even signify the Dark Lord was beckoning him to Himself. Severus wondered briefly if he was the only person in the room wishing that were the case.

The answer came to him a blink later. Narcissa, having turned away from the door, to spell closed which she had been craning her sculpted neck, took his hand. Her band was cold against his fingers as they intertwined with hers.

“Now you tell me what **really** happened yesterday, Severus—“ she ordered, locking her eyes with his.

For the second time in twenty four hours, Severus began recounting the meeting with his Master. He told her everything he could. He didn’t skip his own suspicions about why the Dark Lord had kept him waiting either. She knew He had initially wanted him dead during the battle. As he described it all, along with the encouragement from his Lord, the worried frown between her arched eyebrows smoothened. She was probably most relieved that not a mention of the Vow (or her son in general) was embroiled in his words.

“I doubt that I were or am unsafe, however—“ he concluded, a few minutes later. “—He simply does not trust me as much as He declares to. And though I do not wish to dare call anything my Lord believes ‘unfounded’, I can vouch for how I remain as faithful to Him as I have ever been. On the other hand, who does He trust, these days.”

“Well, He does place his full confidence in the brothers... But that would be about it, I suppose.” Cissa agreed, putting down her goblet. “I see you’re keeping your resolution, Severus—“ she noted with a playful note in her voice, eyeing the teacup in his hand, “—and all the incentive you’ve needed was Teddy, while I’ve been nagging you for ages...”

“Then how do you know it is not your words that finally began to sink in?” Severus queried with irony. He’d had his mishaps on the matter, but there was no need to inform her about that. One badgering calm-voiced person at a time was enough for him.

“I know you better than that.” Narcissa smiled. She moved her free hand and tugged a strand of hair behind his ear, “How’s your motivation doing, however?”

They spent another, long while, merely talking. During it, the distraction of her closeness grew gradually more flustering.

Severus did not want to bore her with his humdrum headaches or lie too much. Thus, he spoke mainly about Teddy, since she had asked. Regardless, he wanted to listen to her voice more than to actually discuss anything.

Narcissa, fortunately, had a lot to tell him. They haven’t had that possibility without the chaperon for a couple of months until now. Still, the stories remained centred around a kid. In her case – they concerned everything her son was currently up to. Halfway through her ‘report’ (fraught with worry) about Draco’s cooling relation with Lucius, a popping sound interrupted her euphonious voice.

She turned to the arriving creature, but her fingers, still tangled with his on the table, did not recoil. They were barely visible to the elf and, either way, that turned out to be Frankie. “What is it?”

“Sir Malfoy had left with sir Lestrange, telling Frankie to inform Mistress that he is returning in an hour or so.”

Severus noted the very telling usage of titles in that sentence. He would have to admonish Frankie on that later. Either both Malfoys were her Masters, or none at all; the middle ground sounded very wrong to his paranoid ear.

“Thank you, Frankie. How is Edward, upstairs?” he used the occasion to ask.

“The Little One is playing with young sir and lady. Oh! And Sir Draco is wanting to talk to you, Master, but he was saying that it’s not urgent.”

“Tell him that we will come to them in—“ Severus sent the question Cissa’s way with a glance at the witch.

“—half an hour or a tad more than that.” she finished for him.

“I will talk to him then. And if we are needed any earlier, or if sir Malfoy returns, you are to inform us, not another elf.” With that as her instruction, Frankie left them alone again.

Now that they knew just for how long their privacy was to last, Narcissa promptly finished her story, bordering on complaint about her husband at the end. Somehow, his ghost always found its way to be present between the two of them. Then, she took off her jacket, hanging it neatly over the back of Lucius’ chair, and Severus kissed her hand. He did that properly, though – each of her fingers one by one, then the skin of her arm up to the hem of the sleeves of her gown.

She allowed him to unclasp the necklace resting on her chest. While his hands were tracing lines on her bare nape, she run her fingers through his hair. The smell of her perfume (cedar and jasmine, the one she got from him, last year) engulfed him, as he leaned in closer. Finally, she kissed him. The taste of cherry covering her lips, mixed with the one of marzipan on her tongue, filled his mouth.

\---

They straightened up, casting freshening and smoothening charms on each other, so that nothing was too obviously rumpled or dishevelled. Meanwhile, the flush in Narcissa’s cheeks subsided (and, according to her, so did the one in his). Only after they were back to looking presentable, did they leave the drawing room.

‘The kids’, who were, in fact, all but children considering both their ages and the times they had been living in, were indeed upstairs and playing with Teddy. They were seated on a carpet on the floor, next to an impressive creation of construction blocks, which resembled the manor. Astoria was currently supporting Teddy, so that he could walk into it. She nodded to the two of them as they entered.

“Hello mother, professor—“ Draco said. He quickly scrambled from his far too casual position, so that he was actually sitting, rather than lounging on the floor supported with one elbow. “—Is father still away?”

“From the looks of it, yes— “ Narcissa answered him, rising her brow cagily. “Why?”

Draco ignored her question. His eyes, greenish grey due to the decor of the playroom, focused on Severus now. “Can I talk to you, professor? In private?” he asked, standing up.

“I cannot see why not, provided the ladies may excuse us for a moment, of course.” Severus looked over at the two of them. One was still bent over the kid, half hidden behind the grey wall of blocks, the other – already summoning two chairs to herself.

“We may—“ Narcissa declared with a benign smile. “I’ll gladly keep company to Astoria here. Teddy, come to auntie —“ she continued, seeing as the child was now wagering towards her. The bottom of Astoria’s dress swept the floor as she walked, crouched, after Teddy, holding him under the arms for belaying.

Upon such response, Draco led him upstairs. On their way, once they were well out of earshot of anyone in the playroom, he asked, in a throwaway manner, “Father’s been taking, mine and hers, names in vain, I presume?”

Severus didn’t answer. It was neither his place nor his wish to be the messenger between any of the family members.

Undaunted by the lack of response, Draco switched swiftly to some blabber about school again. This time he was evaluating the work of the prefects (and again in a perfect imitation of his own father talking about the Ministry).

They were going to his study on the third floor. Situated opposite his bedroom, it was the newest addition to his little kingdom up there.

The boy had his own bathroom, library, ‘little’ drawing room (roughly the size of Severus’ house at Spinner’s) and Salazar knew what else. The study, however, was unconnected to the other chambers. It had to be entered from the corridor, after passing the portrait of a sullen-looking witch in a purple, Victorian dress.

The door wouldn’t budge under his non-verbal Alohomora. It must have been locked with a more complicated spell. Draco hurried over to camouflage that fact with the simple courtesy of opening the door for him, so it probably was a wizard-specific charm.

_The place to keep secrets from the other family members in, then._

Though, on the other hand, a spell of this kind was usually based on rudimentary face recognition. Therefore, it could have trouble differentiating between Malfoy senior and junior. Without counting the wrinkles, that would soon prove a formidable feat, as Draco, already a living sculpture of Lucius, began (no doubt – rather recently) growing out his hair. It was still considerably shorter than his father’s, but that wasn’t to stay forever – not with all the hair-potions in existence.

Inside the chamber, there wasn’t much furniture; just a desk with a chair at each side of it, and a dresser. One of the chairs had elaborate carvings on its backrest – clearly being the master’s one. In front of the fireplace an arras hung. On it, a chimera was galloping through a Mediterranean forest, with rabbits and birds fleeing from its hooves.

The room resembled Lucius’ study, but for the colours – here, there was barely any green or silver, not to mention ocean blues. Black and mahogany brown dominated, overpowering the light grey paint of the walls. As a result, a murky, darkling atmosphere ruled over the chamber.

With a flick of his wand, Draco lit the candelabra. This didn’t completely dissipate the darkness (not that Severus had anything against this aspect; actually – it brought his own office to mind). Next, he invited him to sit in ‘the claimant’s’ chair.

Even if they were, as Severus had declared, on a rather equal footing in here, it was nothing short of tactless of him. Draco was porbably aware of that, since he hastened to give his explanation. “I wish I could have chosen the drawing room, because there we’d be much more comfortable, but I am planning to take notes, sir.”

Severus’ brow shot up with mingled curiosity and incredulity. “Surely, you have not brought me here for scholarly advice, Draco.”

Come to think of it – _what did he bring me up here for_?

Such a thing happened only when Draco had something to boast about, but which would be hard to bring downstairs – like the impressive collection of signed Quidditch posters decorating the walls of his bedroom. Or, when it was something he wasn’t allowed to bring to the dinner table – like his broomstick or any potion he had made on his own at home.

In compliance with his own words, the boy was now rooting in the drawers of his desk. Finally, he emerged from below it wielding a white peacock quill.

“In fact, that’s exactly what I did, professor.” Draco declared, placing the parchment before himself _with Lucius’ flourish_ , then straightening it with his fingers. “I wanted to ask you a few magictific questions. First, however—“ he added, fishing in the folds of his robe to produce a tube decorated with the unmistakable, flashy emblems of a joke-shop and pried off the lid. “—Do you want one? Sir?”

Severus eyed the tube suspiciously, due to the moving letters unable to work out the name of the product from this angle.

“Cheering Candies, from Weasleys’ Wheezes.” Draco obligingly provided the context, pouring several of them into his open palm.

_Are they not rather illegal, considering that the Weasleys, unlike, say, the Ollivanders, haven’t been exonerated?_

The boy continued answering his unasked questions. “Rowle said I could keep what I wanted from their storehouse and I did. This is ‘confiscating’, so it doesn’t constitute for a crime in itself.” He grinned complacently, before putting a small handful of the colourful sweets in his mouth. For a moment, presumably until they dissolved, he did not speak. His hand holding the tube was still stretched invitingly towards Severus, who was ignoring it.

A pleased expression slowly descended onto the young Malfoy’s face, dazed almost.

When Draco opened his mouth again, his tongue was slightly tainted with blue and green. “They’re nothing dangerous, really—” he assured. “I don’t think the twins had the time to introduce them before they closed, so there were whole stillages of them in the back of the shop. I took that, along with a few other things, like a Pygmy puff from the one poffle that survived – for Astoria – but they’re probably my favourite.”

Staring at him appraisingly, Severus nodded to spur him to go on.

“Whatever one might say about the Weasleys—“ Draco continued, spitting the name out like something bitter, though the venom was buffered by his half-closed eyes. “—or them two, personally – and oh, I hated them, the twins – they were great at their calling. Only it was better not to be at the receiving end of most of their stuff, I’d say. Shame they’re done for, really.”

The muscles of Draco’s face, usually rather tense, had relaxed visibly, and for a short moment he stared through the window gazelessly. Soon, however, the cool grey eyes – graphite in here, opened fully again and returned to Severus, seemingly unbothered by his persistent silence. “And sir, I swear those aren’t going to turn you into a canary, or whatever else—“ he appended, seeing as Severus was still unconvinced, his hand resting on the desktop rather than reaching for the sweets.

This, surprisingly, was the least of Severus’ worries concerning the candies. Everything he had just heard was worrisome – from Draco experimenting with a potentially addictive substance, through his disregard towards the dangers of using something that hadn’t even been on sale, to him recalling the enemies of the Dark Lord with a shadow of appreciation.

“Give that to me—“ Severus snatched the tube from the boy’s rather limp grasp and began examining it. Draco shot him a quizzing, astonished look, but then focused on the view beyond the window again.

Expectedly – there were no warnings anywhere easily noticeable. At the very bottom of the packaging, in minuscule letters, there was the list of ingredients. Next to it, even more squeezed, was a note on how partaking more than a single recommended serving could cause adverse effects or even dependence. Said serving was described underneath the lime-green ‘s’ in the name of the product – three candies at a clip, twelve a day. The portion the boy had just ingested was definitely greater than three pieces.

“How many do you eat a day, Draco?” Severus asked, his voice serious.

“Don’t know. Not much, though—“ he hedged, giving a one-sided shrug. “May I have them back now?” he demanded, although not very staunchly.

Severus measured him with a stern gaze, then – took out a single maximum recommended serving. One of the three candies he ate, the other two he put into an empty vial he’d retrieved from his pocket. He had learnt before that even in dress robes it was often of service to keep a spare.

“Now you may.” Severus put the tube on the desk and pushed it towards him.

Draco rolled his eyes as he saw him cork the vial. “Are you **really** going to check what’s in them, sir?”

“Yes. And, frankly, I am disappointed you find that superfluous. I thought I had taught you better than to trust whatever substance you are given, Draco. Especially if it was produced by the enemy.”

“Oh well. Right.” Draco shrugged again, unconcerned. He put the tube back into its place, then turned to him again, finally grabbing the quill and dipping it in the bottle of black ink lying on the table. “More to the point – what do you know about binding magical contracts, sir?”

Severus wondered if he was hinting at anything concerning the two of them. However, Draco had put on the studious face he wore in classes whenever something was being dictated, so perhaps he sincerely wanted to learn. Yet, for some reason, Severus sensed that the boy was up to something and he scrupled to take responsibility for aiding him in it. Draco was already acting reckless enough without further goading.

Therefore, Severus, though not too determinately, attempted to daunt him into dropping the topic. “Why?” he asked curtly.

“Oh, I just thought it’d broaden my horizons, sir.” Draco grinned innocently.

He was so obviously lying and in such an unabashed manner, that he resembled himself as a small kid, when he was trying to convince Lucius he hadn’t been pestering the peachicks, all the while holding one in his pocket.

Severus was impervious to the charm of such memories. Even the pastille (whose subtle cheering effect seemed to have already kicked in) could not change that state of things. “Why not look through a book, then?” he suggested discouragingly.

“Because books are boooring—“ Draco faked a yawn. “Really though, professor, because it’d make my stay in the library shorter – and thus life easier – if I already knew what I was looking for. Actually, if you could slip in some titles or authors, I’d be grateful too. Though, you know, I’ll find it all on my own, if I have to, sir. …It’s just that the weather’s so fine—“ his voice dripped with sarcasm, “—it’d be a shame to stay between the bookcases for the whole break.” Adding a broad grin, possibly in another attempt to soften him, Draco wet his quill again. “—So?”

Severus sighed deeply and began explaining what he knew on the matter. Draco was indeed scrupulously taking notes, with a little more vigour once the Love Bound was mentioned. When Severus had said his piece, the boy’s eyes, now no longer as hazy as they were just after he’d eaten the candies, rose from the parchment and fixed in him.

“Great—“ Draco evaluated, putting the filled piece of parchment aside and taking out another. “Now – Fidelius Charm. What layers does it need, does the sequence matter and if so – why – and where can I read about it not in runes?”

_Fidelius Charm?! What in Salazar’s name would you need that for?_

Draco was dosing the shock to him in small pats. Perhaps his intention was to spare him from suffering a heart attack in here, since, frankly, that had just began to look like a real possibility.

His interest in magical contracts could have been caused by some reckless blast of admiration for that girl of his, thus – safely disregarded. However, if he was trying to find out more about concealing secrets, he likely had a secret worth doing that. _A secret worth invoking Dumbledore-level of magical knowledge._ It wasn’t too likely that this secret went against the Dark Lord (or at least Severus sincerely hoped so). Yet still – there was simply no way that this could bode well.

Barely perceptibly, Severus caught his breath. “I am afraid my knowledge in charms of the kind is rather limited.” he lied smoothly. “At any rate – I cannot be of assistance to you in that matter, Draco.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” the boy asked with cheek, “Sir?”

“You have heard me the first time, Draco.” Severus responded, with a promise of ire in his tone, getting up from his chair.

“But sir – I still have some delayed and trigger-activated jinxes to ask you about!” Draco protested.

“Sometimes later, perhaps.”

“—Not to say that with Fidelius I could really – and I mean **really** – use some guidance. What with no Ancient Runes professor for now and all…” The boy had resorted to guilting him into helpfulness and Severus’ peevishness grew.

Snape halted by the door, not wanting to open it yet. He was wary of prying ears and rather sure that there was and imperturbable charm on it guarding them against those. “I said no!” he snapped, glaring at the, still calmly seated, young Malfoy. “And I advise you to drop it, whatever it is that you are playing at, Draco—“ he added more silkily.

Draco remained silent through the stare-down, though he too had gotten to his feet and had his fists clenched at his sides.

Severus opened the door – from the inside it was very much possible even without a wand, confirming his previous assumptions; without another word he left the study. The boy didn’t follow him immediately, probably choosing to order his things first and calm down.

Severus strode angrily through the corridor and towards the staircase, feeling the blue and grey eyes of the Malfoy ancestors on him.

_Such a dim, self-important brat, assured he is invincible now and asking for trouble... He is planning something ludicrous; it could not be any plainer._

Deluding himself was pointless – he was worried about the boy.

He had been, ever since the war.

Narcissa had told him very little, though likely that was all she knew on the matter. Still, he’d have to be blind to overlook Draco’s megrim during the summer and the odd behaviours he had already developed during the new school year. Perhaps some of them were connected to Astoria. However, even in her voulu propriety, she didn’t seem like the type to be a bad, authority-questioning, influence on him. On the other hand, the mere fact that Draco was inclined to defy his father’s will on the issue of his ‘prospective betrothed’ was worrying in itself.

It wasn’t his only disobedience of the kind. After all, even the solicitousness he was showing towards Teddy was very much frowned upon by Lucius. During vacations him playing with the child meant he wasn’t wandering through the sun-drenched gardens, brooding as if he’d been on the losing side, so his mother encouraged it. Her husband simply had to accept it.

The first time Severus saw Draco around the baby was back when he hadn’t even adopted Edward yet.

The sight of him patiently supporting the kid to sit and play caught him by surprise. It wasn’t proper for someone of his standing, lineage, age and gender combined, to show excessive care towards ‘a half-breed child’. On top of that – his pre-war personality hadn’t exactly portended that. Severus had been convinced that Draco wouldn’t even need the prompt of the Dark Mark on his forearm to approach ‘a half-werewolf’ with an expression of disgust copied from Lucius. At least he thought so, until he saw proof the boy had taken after his mother in this aspect.

To this time, Severus was still a bit stunned by that kindness of his. At the same time, he was very much aware it was a similar sight as his own case – an impossible one that was. War, when closely followed with the possibility to take care of something ( _or someone_ ), had the power to do that people.

Severus was taking his time descending the stairs. Currently before the enormous mirror hanging above the landing between the third and second floor, he stopped. For a moment he admired the ornamental snakes writhing around sculptured leaves of its frame, as if he had never seen them before.

He had consciously taken the staircase more distant to the playroom below, calculating on his temper to subdue before he’d reach it. He didn’t have any information on whether Lucius was back. Without that knowledge, it was better to ensure that by the time he and Draco joined the rest, their conversation would have evaporated without a trace.

Another of Draco’s refractory behaviours was his newfound liking for muggle artefacts.

Never, in his years of observing the Slytherin table carefully, had Severus so much as seen him peering over to the Raveclaw table. There, often, various gadgets brought from the muggleborn’s or half-blood’s families would be presented. After the war, however, Draco had managed to rustle up something of the kind for himself. Seemingly, he did so **exactly because** it was inadvisable and even outright dangerous ( _and stupid_ ) that he should have.

During the summer, Severus had seen that muggle electronic device in his possession. It was a portable one, which used music cassettes. Those, actually, were something Severus was familiar with – the Evans’ used to have a lot of them. Supposedly, Draco’s device worked undisrupted by the surrounding magic at the manor, so the boy must have tinkered with it.

That of his belongings was doubtlessly illegal.

Of course, Draco, unlike many others, was unlikely to be thrown into a cell and kept there, tortured or in the company of Demetors until he’d repent. That was likely why he’d grown so careless.

Thankfully, Severus managed to persuade him not to take that “muggle debris” to Hogwarts. It took place during their long conversation in July about Draco’s return to the school. He had been forced to use the “I would be glad if you did not risk your position as Head Boy, which you will be offered, for a tat of the kind—” argument. That cost him a lot, but seemed to have worked on the boy in this particular case.

Sadly, however, he hadn’t been able to completely talk him out of keeping the piece of junk. His try at appealing to the boy’s reason, had as much success as Longbottom’s attempt at brewing a Beffudlement Draught. Although in this case, at least nothing exploded. “I suppose you are aware, Draco, that there is no place for such things in any wizard’s home – not to say in this one in particular—” Severus had said. “Your father would be displeased.”

His comment was countered with a nonchalant, “Yes, I know sir. That’s an understatement though. My father would _kill_ —“ Draco protracted the word with something close to relish, “—me for it, for ‘tainting the house with it’. **If** he knew.”

What exactly gave the boy the certainty Lucius wouldn’t find out from Severus, he wasn’t sure. It was either his usual brass, or the fact that he, Cissa and his professor already shared a secret, held partly against Lucius. Draco was right on that, however – Severus kept his silence. Even towards the Dark Lord he would or at least he would have much downplayed it, should He ever be interested in Draco’s contemptible new hobbies.

Now there was that Weasleys’ fabrication. Yet another thing Lucius wouldn’t be proud of and Narcissa would be worried sick about, if either of them knew. Severus was certain that Draco had hidden it from the both of them. It wasn’t that hard of a coup, with this much of space at his disposal and the freedom he had been given ever since turning seventeen.

All in all – as of late, Draco Malfoy had possibly entered his belated rebellious phase. He gave the impression of being completely unaware (or disregardful) of the risks. The stakes were high even for him – the Minister’s son, especially since his lack of Dark Mark was already unsavoury in itself.

The oddity of him suddenly picking up interest in concealing magic was just the rotten cherry on top of an already potentially poisonous cake, but a cherry that composed well with the rest of it. Severus dreaded the very notion that this could be anything more than another fit of juvenile angst.

 _No. Draco is a pureblood and, amongst those – a Malfoy. Whimsical as he may be, he’d never truly betray the ideals of his family, not to even mention the Dark Lord’s. –_ he reassured himself. Draco’s abandon was worrying and a sign of his (quite Malfoyish, frankly) stupidity, but it was _~~hopefully~~ _harmless.

Either way, he was praying that the moronic idea of asking around (Circe forbid – at school) would eradicate itself from the boy’s mind on its own. Otherwise, it could bring enormous trouble to them both.

\---

When Severus arrived in the playroom, Draco wasn’t there yet. Neither was Lucius, even though the preannounced hour of his had long passed now.

Astoria was sitting cross-legged in her armchair, so that it was easier for her to hold Teddy, sleeping in her embrace. When Severus entered, she raised her eyes from the child and upon him. She inclined her head in acknowledgement and put a finger to her mouth, indicating the baby, so that he would know to whisper.

Cissa was twisting to the crib by her side, levitating something out of it. When she heard the door open, the blanket was just landing in her lap. The intricate creation of braids and silver hairpins on her head wobbled slightly, when she turned to face the newcomer. “Oh – it’s you—“ she said quietly, though in a surprised tone, “—I thought it’d be Lucius. It’ll be two hours soon—“

“—Already? Then certainly he will join us any moment now.” Severus comforted her stiffly. “Has Edward just fallen asleep?”

“Yes, sir—” Astoria answered gingerly. “He started acting sleepy soon after you left, but finally dozed off moments ago. Where’s Draco, by the way, sir?”

“Still in his study.” Severus came to a halt next to Narcissa’s chair. “Shall we leave the kid with the elf and return to the drawing room then?”

The Mistress of the house agreed to his suggestion. Therefore, Severus took the child from the girl to put him into the cradle.

Meanwhile, Draco arrived. Just as Severus had expected – he was showing no signs whatsoever of having been shouted at. This much he had finally learnt from his parents, him and all the likes of them (who were soon, after all, to become his ‘fellow Eaters’) – to never flaunt what he was feeling.

They decided to head downstairs. Draco and Astoria stayed behind under the pretence of putting back the kid’s toys (though it could just as well be carried out by the elves), further proving Severus’ suspicion the boy’s questions concerned the girl in some way.

Apparently, Severus had officially become an owl of the Malfoy family. Now, he was entertained by Narcissa’s sleek attempts at dragging the topic of his conversation with Draco out of him. He told her it was the delayed-activation jinxes, as well as some of the potions from 7th grade curriculum. He could only hope the boy would be prudent enough not to let the lie come to light.

 _Or praying, more like._ If Draco could be suspected of wanting to swear on his never-ending love to his school sweetheart and, considering his Malfoyish fickleness, that would likely mean – die because of it, then he could hardly be accused of having any prudence.

However, the boy trusted him. Still, when Lucius had lost that privilege with Narcissa alongside him. Severus wasn’t willing to betray that confidence. Besides, Cissa would only needlessly worry about the temerarious brat.

Soon, they were once again gathered in the drawing room. During their absence, it had been rearranged. The table was barely visible and the spotlight was taken by the Christmas tree along with the set of armchairs.

It was already clear they wouldn’t be waking Teddy up for the presents. Therefore, Cissa now informed his guardian about the contents of those gifts in detail. It was a good use of the time until Lucius’ return, as it spared the poor Malfoy senior pretending to be blind and deaf on any mention of the kid.

Apart from tea and coffee there was wine being served (and Severus was the only one refraining from drinking it). Hence why the conversation grew less primly while they were waiting.

To further raise the spirits of the gathered, Draco embarked onto an amusing account of Hogwarts’ gossip. Allegedly, it was a belief popular with the students that Severus was a vampire.

Both Astoria and Cissa giggled at the notion. However, only the former had the instinct to pretend not to have. Severus was treated to a story about himself, which for once was simply ridiculous, not just irritating or upsetting.

It all grew from the infamous Ravenclaw-Slytherin squabble. In Chinese whispers, it had evolved to the one of them defending the vampires. Then, it took the shape of Severus punishing Alecto for expressing anti-vampire views. Combined with his appearance (“I mean – please don’t take offence in it, professor – but some illustrations in Jigger could just as well hang in the office as your portrait in the future.”) it apparently led to the creation of a now widely believed theory.

Perhaps it was better, on some level, for the kids to believe that he was a blood-sucking creature. It definitely would be more dangerous for them to realise that the inconsequence of the Ministry’s decision was based on nothing but megrim. That could lead to further cogitating and thus to conjectures, such as how the Dark Lord did not care who exactly his Eaters were murdering.

However, being compared to the creature was not a good word of mouth for Severus. It did offend him in a way, or would have, if the concept wasn’t so amazingly ridiculous.

That topic was swiftly abandoned upon Lucius’ arrival. For a change, he was the one apologising for lateness and since then, the usual, equally nonsense-filled, though much more refined and falsely polite, chatter prevailed.

Miss Greengrass had a curfew before which to return to her own home. Thus, pretty soon she said her words of goodbye and, holding two unopened packages that were her presents from Draco and his parents, departed. After a moment, the boy, who had went to see her off, rejoined them and the exchange of gifts continued.

Severus wasn’t too surprised to find out that Narcissa had received the perfume he had chosen for her earlier, but this time from her son. From Severus she received a silver hair slide. It corresponded with the cufflinks for Lucius’ robe – both depicting Occamies. Their presents were paired up for the aesthetic and symmetry of that (and because Severus just had to make himself suffer).

To his shock, Severus was not given alcohol of any kind, but _a gramophone? Since when do I listen to music?_

Gramophones, of course, were not banned, since their **original** inventor was not a muggle, thus – they were not ‘dirty’ items. According to Cissa, those were “good for the development of children”. For once, Lucius wasn’t the only one around that looked like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

To Draco, Severus gifted a watch with the annotation of “Not to point at anything, Draco, but I have been hearing you suffer from a promptness problem.” Which, indeed, Draco did, as of late. Severus could overhear the remarks about his “not-quite-exemplary Headboy behaviour” at the staff table. The boy hadn’t had a proper 17th birthday celebration worth of a Malfoy and nobody thought to make that up to him the following year, because of the recent Battle. Therefore, he possessed at the very best one of those and apparently – it wasn’t in use.

Draco restricted himself to simply thanking him. He did not dare to venture into snarky retorts under the watchful eye of his, today really rather peevish father.

Lucius, on his part, soon took Severus aside, in the tonight so prevalent manner of cultivating ‘the familiar friendship’ without most members of the family present. He was offered Firewhiskey first thing in the Malfoy senior’s study and, though (with heavy heart) he declined, he understood the message.

Their Lord not only had returned with glory – He had His plans, ready to enact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Self-indulgent author's note:**  
>  1st grade Draco: My father will hear about this;  
>  8th grade Draco: My father will NEVER hear about this.  
>  This is what I call – character development.  
>  And don't worry, the Voldemort-plot will not suddenly become the sole/main focus in here, soon we'll be back on track, broadcasting a sulking Remus Lupin.


	13. The Memories

They returned from the Malfoy Manor even later than Severus had predicted and he was extremely exhausted. Teddy had been too, earlier, but he woke up before coming home. They travelled through the Portkey, which Severus had recently obtained due to the Floo problem considering the kid. By the time Severus was putting the peacock-engraved inkbottle on the desk of his office, the child was already alert.

The gifts for Teddy were hidden in the bag with a dwindling enchantment. Severus took them out and placed them underneath the fir in the kitchen, while the kid fidgeted in the carrier in a vain effort to catch one of the decorations on the tree. This Severus could suffer through, but he dreaded lulling the, now very animated, toddler back to sleep. Therefore, he was relieved to find Frankie still up and about, cleaning the bathroom. He had expected he would have to wake her up.

He asked her where Lupin was hiding, so as not to run into him unawares. ‘Sir Remus’ was, reportedly, in the library “with the bowl”. It must have taken him longer with the Pensieve than Severus had predicted it would, but he didn’t deem that disquieting. The soundproof door to the room looked closed. Even with his werewolfish hearing, Lupin would later be startled by him having appeared, hence why Severus decided to announce himself. That, however, could wait a moment. 

First, he had to handle Teddy. Having said his goodnights, he wrestled both his hand and his nose out of the toddler’s grasp. Then, he handed him to Frankie. She trotted into the bedroom holding the squirming bundle of ‘elegant’ kid clothes that Teddy currently was. Severus, meanwhile, went into the laboratory to put away the vial with the Cheering Candies. He was just closing the cabinet with experimental substances (the one currently inhabited by his accursed variation of the Peace Draught, the Werewolf Sleeping Draught and a few other altered creations of his), when someone entered through the ajar door.

“Hello Severus—“ came from behind him in a voice simultaneously sounding a lot and not at all like Lupin’s.

Severus turned on his heel in a snap. “Hello.”

Remus was standing in the doorframe; barricading it. “I’ve used the Pensieve—” he declared.

“Great.” Severus shrugged.

“Great, is it?” Lupin raised his brow, stepping towards him. The door, at which Remus had his wand pointed, closed behind him with a creak. He probably didn’t want to interrupt the child’s falling asleep. “Let me repeat then – I have viewed the memories you gave me.”

This wasn’t the best moment to talk about them and surely, Lupin knew that, didn’t he? He was usually rather good at reading such things, now that Severus thought about it. _Can it really not wait until tomorrow morning?_

“I have intended you to do that, so your announcing that to me is rather unnecessary.” He opted to reply curtly, so that Remus would leave it for now.

But Lupin opted for being annoyingly relentless. “On the contrary – it clearly is, if this is how you’re going to address the subject – if you’re just going to shrug it off, like there’s nothing there to address at all.” There really was something off with his voice. It was as husky and mild as usual, but just so uncharacteristically deprived of warmth.

For a disturbing moment, Severus wondered whether he hadn’t by mistake given him memories he hadn’t meant to – for instance: of him torturing or killing someone, or even of the Marauders’ bullying him, like he’d caustically mentioned yesterday. However, he remembered extracting each of the memories and, since they were just copies, now scanned through them to check that nothing unwelcome had been entangled with them. It had not. He ruled out that possibility.

“Are you attempting to convey some kind of a message here, Lupin? I am very much not in the spirit for you to be ominous.”

Still blocking the entrance and not budging despite Severus’ clear intent to leave, Lupin answered with a question of his own. “Are you really going to play dumb about this?”

“About what?!” he asked snappily, though sincerely. Truth was – he had no idea what Lupin was referring to. “—And move, if you may.”

Remus, unwilling to oblige, only shifted to a wider stance, so that the door handle was not in Severus’ reach. Lupin tugged at as it began magically opening itself behind his back.

“I may not—” he said stoutly. “You may not, either – you will explain why you’ve been lying to me for all those months—“

_What the blazes has he taken into his head?_

To Severus’ growingly outraged expression, Lupin appended in that new tone of his, “—no, you don’t get to tell me you weren’t – a lie by omission is still a lie – and I’ll think what I’ll do about it.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Lupin. I am now going to sleep. Whatever it is – can wait until tomorrow. And if I have to hex you for you to move, then so be i—“

“Expelliarmus.” Remus said evenly, alongside a surprisingly swift and graceful movement, which caught Severus pathetically unprepared. “I would be very pleased if you stopped threatening me.” The calmness of that request suddenly sounded alarming.

The veins on Lupin’s fist were throbbing when he shoved Severus’ wand into his own pocket. Severus felt uneasy without it, obtrusively uneasy, in fact. Lupin was enraged. He was acting exactly the way Severus had feared he would on the day he woke up; but now, without the drowsing effects of the draught, he was obviously more threatening.

“Remus—“ Severus began, in the most placating tone he could muster.

“Don’t ‘Remus’ me, Snape, because if you believe that’s going to mollify me, you’re seriously mistaken.”

_Snape?_

Remus, _or rather – Lupin,_ was still blocking the exit and fuming. Blanched in the face wherever it wasn’t covered by the beard, he was baring his teeth excessively as he spoke. And Severus was caught in the most ridiculously dangerous situation he’d ever gotten himself into – cornered in his own chambers, in his own laboratory, practically defenceless.

As hard as it was for him to admit that, on top of being utterly confused by the situation, Severus was currently rather afraid.

He clutched to the thought of Lupin’s usual, placid nature. Yet, this Lupin barely resembled the one from a few hours ago, who supportively held his hand while chiming in to his rambling. His demeanour was similar, but the change was striking nevertheless.

Severus decided to focus on his wand – on its location in Remus’ left pocket, on its dark engraved handle. He tried to summon it, nonverbally and, of course, wandlessly. All the while begging every supramundane power for Lupin not to notice (or, at least, not to attack him if he did).

 _This – this is what you get for trusting a werewolf..._ – stated a lazy, plummy voice in his head, one which hadn’t been lent to his conscience for a long time now. Severus wondered why it had chosen this moment to reappear. His musings on the matter were interrupted shortly and in a rather unprecedented manner.

“Why, tell me, do you have to act in such a slimy, snaking, cravenish way all the time? What compels you to it?” Lupin asked imploringly but with rage. His hand clasped on the folds of his own robe, where Severus’ wand had been trembling. “Even now – can’t you fucking ask for the wand back—” Severus opened his mouth (though not to do anything of the sort, but to requite him insult for insult). He managed to restrain himself and Lupin added, mockingly, “—Oh, no – no. No, now you won’t get it, because I don’t trust you with it – though I wanted you to know you should’ve done so in the first place.”

Remus exhaled loudly through his nostrils and his voice continued to sag with frigid irony. At the same time, it was clear he was struggling to control himself, _control the wolf, probably..._ “But no, of course you didn’t, because that would be too conspicuous, too lucid – and god forbid Severus Snape ever got out of the shadows. No – the shadows are far too comfortable for you, aren’t they, Severus?”

Remus’ words reminded him forcibly of Bellatrix’s from two years ago. Although there were not many people in the world who resembled each other less, those two apparently both fathomed out that he was a coward. Lupin, not unlike her, had little to base that upon – certainly not after having watched all the events play before his eyes.

“Excuse me?” Severus said silkily, glaring straight into the eyes of the werewolf, not surprised anymore to find them gleaming with golden flames of fury. “Pray tell, what do you **think** you have seen, Lupin?”

“I’ll tell you what I saw, Snape, gladly.” Remus’ voice ceased to be level, but he then quickly lowered it back again. “Though I’m pretty sure those were your memories, so I feel like you should already know. But well...” He took a deep breath and his fist uncurled in his pocket; Severus, however, had gotten wiser than to try to pry upon that occasion.

“—You could have killed him. You knew, he didn’t, and you had him before you, one on one for a moment. You could have ended him – tried at least. You could’ve stopped some of it from happening even. And yet – you did absolutely, fucking, nothing—”

The resemblance to _that demonic bitch_ , here in how conviction came first and only then – reason, hit him again. Therefore, Severus opted for the hysteric-friendly approach – complete patience, though with a great deal of patronising. In this case he wasn’t being bombarded with dark looks and manic shrieks, thus it was rather less amusing (but also – less galling). Lupin simply stood with hands in his pockets, brow raised somewhat challengingly, and waited for him to speak.

“Forgive me, Lupin—“ he began, in a soft voice. “—for not acting up to your standards of composure – of your composure, may I remind you, retained while sitting in a safe house – when I was uncertain how many of the Horcruxes had been destroyed, barely stood upright and had other things on my mind. I wished for death and were far more preoccupied with that than with anything else – not entirely a proud moment, I am aware of that—” he admitted with effort. “You saw the battlefield memories – or I hope so. Maybe you, Gryffindor lot, act like that day to day, I wouldn’t know. But I, by and large, do not trot amongst enemies without a single protective spell on me, hoping – begging – that the second or third stunner would finally knock me out for good.”

“Wanting to die is not a bloody ace for you to play as an excuse—” Lupin said, scold woven into his tone. Before Severus could retort, he continued, a tad more genially now, “—I agree that from your perspective it must have been different, I haven’t overlooked that. Though, actually, if you wanted that to happen, wasn’t trying to check whether he was mortal an excellent excuse for getting you just that, if you failed?”

“And if I succeeded?”

“Then you’d either escape with the rest or, even more possibly, you’d be killed then as well – just by a different wand. That, I suppose, didn’t matter to you at that point—”

_Merlin, why is he being so dim, when in reality he is not? He does see all the dots and yet he chose to connect them in some completely unbridled manner._

“No Lupin, I doubt that ‘too’ of yours. You overestimate those people if you think them brave enough to try.”

Lupin looked at him in the part-aggravated, part-surprised way, which Severus came to associate with himself sounding too presumptuous, or better yet – Malfoyish.

Mobilising all his longanimity, he continued to explain. “Most of the Eaters fail to realise He’s a half-blood, not to say – that His immortality has never been completely indestructible. If I, somehow, succeeded and walked out of there without my Lord, but with the Deathstick in my hand, they would have known immediately. And I probably would have taken it – hoping exactly for your ‘too’, to make the wand lose its power, like Albus had intended. Had Bellatrix been alive, then yes, she’d hit me with an Avada on the spot. But she was not.”

Remus seemed to want to interject, but Severus didn’t let him – halting him with his hand held up. “Think, Lupin. Think. Assuming I defeated ‘the most powerful wizard of all time’ and managed to murder Him, though He had been immortal, how would His Eaters react? Those people placed their hopes in a baby who had supposedly done that deed, for Merlin’s sake! Do you really believe they would kill me for it?”

Unable to control his manner of speech anymore, he was outright jeering at him, even though Lupin began to look like he’d been fed something as tart as Wolfsbane. “That thought did slide through my mind then and I – in my contemptible lack of omniscience given only to fawny-haired Gryffindors sitting in my library – concluded that they would not. **If** I somehow succeeded in such an enterprise, they would have joined me, not killed me. Not all of them, perhaps, and likely forming a structure dissimilar to the one my Lord favours, but they would have. And I would really like to see your face, Remus, if you woke up to hear me say that I **became** the new Dark Lord.”

Lupin snorted slightly, but he immediately tried to conceal his amusement at that vision. A frown formed on his scarred forehead and he crossed his arms on his chest, viewing Severus sternly. “Say I believe that – that this was your track of thought back then, that you believed there was no other way than to follow through with what Vol–the Lord was planning. Still I think it was callous pragmatism on your side, later – that you could have told the resistance, that you could have done more—“

The dams Severus stemmed his anger behind blew open upon that sentence. All his promises to himself about being collected lapsed instantly. “Oh... could I?” he drawled, automatically reaching for a wand he didn’t have, then trying to conceal that by putting his hands on his hips.

Remus, equally instinctively, covered up the pocket in which Severus’ wand responded to the emotions of its master.

“Easy for you to say, isn’t it, Lupin?” Severus continued, in a hiss. “It must be very comfortable, saving your neck locked in here, not risking anything, while I am breaking mine playing my part on the outside. Far too comfortable, apparently – without any discernible risks your brain is clearly pining away – because, imagine, I also had other matters to think about then. Had it not been for a certain chinless wonder, who I had to take into account, I probably would have done more, because I would have been able to risk more.” He raged, voice gaining in harshness and momentum with each spoken syllable. “And, frankly, I have no idea what is it about you – locked down Gryffindors – that you think you know better what others should be doing, when all you’re all good for is getting yourselves ki— “

“I didn’t fucking ask for you to save me, so don’t you dare pin that on me, Severus! That was your decision and the consequences are yours to deal with – not mine!” Lupin growled, taking a long stride towards him. His face had grown paler. Yet, that only highlighted each of the bright lines of his scars, like the one hooked to his upper lip, contorted with a grimace of anger.

Severus felt a fear-ridden wave of blood rush through him, but he didn’t step back. Imprudently so, because with his next raspy bellow, “And don’t you – don’t you bloody dare to ever speak one word about Sirius like that again!”, Remus grasped him, painfully tightly. The ache caused by that in his left arm mixed with the one of the Mark prickling.

Lupin seemed to have done that unwittingly. Based on how he continued to speak, coolly, staring right into his eyes, he hadn’t taken notice of it at all. “—Besides – with all that barbing instead of using actual arguments, you sound like you’re trying to weasel your way out of detention, not justify actually well thought-of decisions...”

Severus, however, had noticed. Actually, he had noticed a little more than just that fact. Fluently, his apprehension about being left jinxed or hexed on the floor of his laboratory was replaced with the one that Lupin too would realise where the blood from Severus’ face had suddenly gone.

_Not now – please not fucking now._

The implications of the occurrence itself (because just how exactly he could get aroused by Remus yelling at him, was beyond him) would have to wait for later to be further analysed. For now, he ignored both that and Lupin’s words, choosing to abruptly interrupt him instead and get his damned warm, werewolfish hand off his robe.

“Unhand me, Lupin.” His voice came out more raucous than the usual.

Remus looked at his own hand, clasped around Severus’ upper arm, like it had just sprouted. He retreated it and raised his gaze at him again. The frustration drained from his face, replaced quickly by a flush of embarrassment. His expression, instantly softer, bordered on apologetic. Still, his voice carried the cold notes in it, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Freed from his grasp, Severus immediately shifted in his pose. Only then did he care to rub his arm where a bruise was possibly now forming. Then, aware he had just successfully thrown Lupin off his tirade, he took the chance to get out of the situation completely – or delay having to face it, at least. The current circumstances were unfavourable in every aspect.

“Listen, Remus—“ he began in what could constitute for a pleading tone, since it wasn’t filled with bile for the most part. “—You are suddenly furious at me, which I have not foreseen. But I am tired and would appreciate it if you gave me back my wand and let me out of here. I am not going anywhere. We will be perfectly able to continue this ‘pleasant’—“ he laid trenchant stress on the word, “—conversation tomorrow morning.”

“I... ugh, well, okay—“ Remus conceded easily. “Just... just be so kind as to bring up the subject on your own accord, instead of waiting for me to get annoyed enough to remind you about it, could you, Severus?”

Snape sighed with resignation. “The wand—” he demanded, holding out his open palm to Remus.

“I asked you something—” Lupin reminded, rummaging in the folds of his robe. Finally, his tone had regained its campfire-like properties.

Severus, on the other hand, was now again growingly irate. “Yes, Lupin, I will. And I will explain myself in the greatest detail, so that you will be bored to the bone, and hopefully will regret ever having cornered me in my laboratory. Satisfied?”

“I will be, if you keep your promise. For now, you’re kind of... on probation, in my book.”

“Tremendous.” Severus rolled his eyes. “Will that entail any more unheralded near-duel situations? Because I would rather know in advance.”

“If I told you now, they wouldn’t really be unheralded, would they?” After a rapid change of temper, Lupin was now smiling convivially. He handed Severus the wand, but did not move away from the door. “Again—“ he said, with a more contrite grin, shooting a glance at Severus’ shoulder. “—I-I didn’t... I really didn’t mean to – well, to act like I was going to attack you.”

“Really? You have an odd way of showing that, then. Taking my wand, I hope you are aware, places itself a little above you clawing through my arm.”

Severus kept regarding him with mingled annoyance and apprehension, but it seemed that whatever had gotten into Lupin before was gone without a trace. In turn, Remus was scrutinising him in an evaluating manner, as if he had just realised he could read something from his expression, not just sear him with his fiery amber glare.

“Well – I – of course I am. I have the same instinct. Take that as a revenge for my wandlessness the first day in Spinner’s, then—” Lupin said, giving a non-committal shrug. “Though you’ve got to admit you’re much more driven to use your wand when you’re pissed off than I am, so I figure it was safer with me anyways. Though the real reason was that it pissed me how you threatened me again, so that’s there... You really do have no idea what I’m grumbling at you for, do you?” His last question was delivered in a typically timid tone, which highly contrasted with his behaviour from a moment ago.

 _It’s a week to Full Moon, isn’t it?_ Tomorrow Lupin would start taking the Wolfsbane. _So he probably is already affected by the damned orb._ – Severus reasoned, slowly feeling his own indignation subside. The other emotion did not, yet. Since, apparently, he was destined to continue this conversation despite that, it was now pushed into the back of his mind. At least Lupin was focused on his face and the surrounding cabinets, not lowering his gaze.

“To be frank, I do not.” Severus replied. “I was convinced the memories would have the opposite effect on you. That rather than raising the need for explanations they would diminish the existing one. And I certainly haven’t expected this—“ he drew a semicircle in the air with his hand. “Or else I would not have given them to you.”

Remus slumped a bit. “Oh well – right. I should’ve predicted that, I suppose. For someone so observant, you’re awfully oblivious to overtones sometimes, to be honest. The whole delayed-and-perforated information thing of yours – it makes all of this look shadowy, even with best initial assumptions…”

 _Goddamned Lupin_ was too decent for his own good as usual. Unhinged as he had been for a moment, he was back to his _~~endearing~~_ ingenuousness already. Now even his criticism was so mellow, that Severus was seriously asking himself where the previous rage came from.

“—Though no matter now. I guess I’ll have easier time taking that into account in the morning. And I swear I won’t be intimidating you again—” Remus promised. Possibly to fix the impression from before, he delicately placed his palm exactly where he had grabbed Severus previously.

Severus, unsure why, didn’t edge away, nor did he wince. Yesterday had prepared him for the Mark’s blunt stinging.

“—Although... I am still mad at you, Severus, or, more so – I have my complaints, gripes even—”

_Sure, fucking lick your lips now, why wouldn’t you..._

Lupin’s closeness was awfully distractive. Out of the sudden, Severus struggled to focus on his words rather than on his features or the cloth of his robe, straining itself on his chest as he spoke.

“—About the battle to begin with... Not to mention all I’ve said already, even though there there’s indeed the matter of me surviving. Which, I suppose, I shouldn’t be furious at you for – so apologies for that. Still... Circe, you’re absolutely inscrutable in the memories, absolutely inscrutable... Each of your words and doings could have been what you really believe in and I would have no idea. Though—“ Remus seemed to be thinking out loud, based on the wrinkle of reverie that contorted the scar on his forehead. He did so, however, with his eyes fixed on Severus and standing close still, his hand sending a steady current of warmth through Snape’s shoulder. “Though I guess you did mean well... You always do, even if it doesn’t look like it, don’t you?” he asked, not rhetorically, though the pause stretched a little until Severus realised that.

_If I don’t say what you want to hear, will you still let me out of here?_

Expecting he may finally crush Remus’ persistent belief in him to pulp, he said earnestly, “Perhaps my aims have been—“ he spat the word out like it burned his tongue, “—‘noble’ in general. But I rarely am truly well-intentioned. Do not delude yourself that I walk around casting curses and Unforgivables, all the while thinking about kitties and flowers, Lupin. I have already told you, though it clearly cannot sink in – the cherished **illusions** of yours are just that exactly.”

Before Severus even finished speaking, Remus, usually the epitome of stability (clearly not today), burst into a shaky, but rather mirthful, laughter. Astounded, Severus unreasonably noted the smell of mint in his breath. Mint tea. Lupin’s hand trembled on his arm until he got a hold of himself. Then, however, he only took another step towards him, leaving barely any space between them.

Their faces were now inches apart. Severus was fighting off a hundred wrong conclusions and impulses alike, when for a moment Remus was just staring at him – lips parted to speak, the doe-eyes ( _ ~~wolf-eyes~~_ ) far too close, currently a mix of black and toffee due to the pupils clearly still dilated from anger.

Severus sincerely hoped his breathing didn’t get as stertorous as it felt to his own ears.

The while dragged as if stretched out by some malfunction of a time-turner, until Lupin, who apparently had done this solely for the dramatic effect, spoke, looking solemnly into his eyes. “You’re such an absolute fool, Severus.”

Resigned to hearing him out despite another insult, rather satisfied that he evaded the reawakening of Lupin’s rage with his confession (and still a little too concerned on his exact stance), Severus waited for the follow-up with his brow pursed sceptically.

“Of course... your intentions aren’t good – just your aims are—“ Remus continued with a shadow of mockery, graciously taking a step back. “—As we all know, aims and intentions are two ‘distinctly different’ things... And you really do think that I’m an idiot, don’t you? It just so happens that I do know a little bit about Dark Magic—“ he stated in a facetiously piqued tone. “—I don’t suppose that you’re thinking about Inferi and maiming curses when you’re, say, playing with Teddy, either. Or so I hope at least.”

Severus was rather certain he began blushing again. _Damn you, Lupin, if not annoyance or embarrassment caused by yourself, now you have to bring up the damned urchin too_... Yet, he let the emotion show and smirked assuredly through it. “Cannot promise you that, Remus. Or anything really. That’s the whole problem with us slimy snakes, is it not?”

No doubt recognising his own insults, Lupin smiled apologetically with his eyes at that.

“—Either way, it’s the end-goal that matters, I believe. On that – you’ve said what I wanted to hear—“ _and entirely not what I thought you would have,_ “—that your aims are right. It may border on naivety, but I really want to be able to trust you, Severus—“ Remus added, brushing away a greyish lock of hair that fell onto his face. “Not just in the matter of my and Teddy’s safety – because there I definitely do, but in general. You’re occasionally making that harder for me with your reticent manner – and I disagree with some choices of yours – but I don’t really think you’re a coward or anything of the kind, I’m sorry for implying that before.” Lupin’s monologue shifted seamlessly into an apology, being very typical for him in that.

Now that Severus noticed that subtle change, he suddenly felt compelled to respond with an apology of his own. “And I don’t truly regard you as only good for dying—” he choked out against his own better judgement. “Him either—“ he amended as an afterthought, but again not feeling the need to specify who he was referring to.

“I’m glad we cleared that up, then.” Remus’ grin, complacent, gave him slight wrinkles underneath the eyes. “So I suppose – we’ll talk the rest through tomorrow—” he finished, patting Severus on the arm once again. This time he caught him off guard and caused him to grimace. A peculiar expression (similar to the one from when he realised he had assailed him) swept through Remus’ face in response to that. However, it disappeared quickly, along with the warmth radiating through the sleeve of Severus’ robe.

From the looks of it, the two of his answers were just enough for Lupin to find him cleared of all charges, at least temporarily.

While Remus’ reaction to his memories shocked and even slightly scared him (with an upsetting undertone), he didn’t fully approve of Lupin’s eagerness to return to his previous convictions either. Severus had been battling with himself for a long time now on whether he wanted to alter Remus’ opinion on him to the correct one or – to live up to the werewolf’s delusion. As a result, he was swinging wildly between those two options, rather like Lupin did this evening between his own emotions.

Besides, he was indisputably a bit irked now. It was as if his deep-rooted annoyance slowly catching up to him. _Another sanctimonious Gryffindor, forced to sit idle, yet so convinced he would have done better if he had the chance._ In a way he also felt _disappointed?,_ that the conflict had been defused before it exploded, even though it had been him who wanted to achieve that.

For now, Severus just nodded mutely.

Then, Lupin finally slid aside. Severus left the laboratory, intent on not thinking about all the explaining in store for him for tomorrow, all Remus’ slights to him or about the small white line of a scar sketched just above the werewolf’s upper lip, and followed by him closely.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a lot Severus had seen and heard but hadn’t found fit to share with Remus before.

His memories were filled with facts. Although Remus took into account that the third person’s perspective could lead him astray in interpretations, he was also aware of the fastidiousness of the man. It was hardly plausible Severus hadn’t noticed anything that Remus was able to. In fact, it was likely to be the other way round.

Severus didn’t, of course, know everything – the exact circumstances of Harry’s death, for example, remained as much a mystery to him as they did to Remus ( _unless there are other important memories that he’s scrupulously hiding from me..._ ).

From Voldemort’s injury to the details on Horcruxes – all of it Severus had been perfectly mindful of and had mostly kept to himself until now, because... _Well, apparently because he didn’t have any incentive to share it – so bloody simple._ In a way, and not the most pleasant one, even though all Remus’ memories of that man were overflowing with respect, this reminded him of Dumbledore.

Lately, Severus’ keenness for keeping unnecessary secrets began bugging him even more than it always had. That was mainly because they had grown closer to each other. Remus certainly had different expectations towards his friends than he had had towards his late mentor and benefactor in one.

 _Severus is my benefactor too._ – Remus argued with himself. – _Though he’s more of my equal than Albus... well... under other circumstances he would be, at least... though he should still learn to treat me as one._

All in all, though Remus was grateful for it, Severus’ suddenly expressed confidence did more to erode his existent trust in him than it did to increase it.

But it was one memory in particular that drove Remus to act like he was Wolfsbane-less and a day or two before Transformation. It was the one from number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The building remained safely hidden. Apparently, the spellcaster was still alive and well, thus Severus was the only Death Eater capable of seeing the place. Voldemort had to send him. Back when Harry was alive, Snape wouldn’t have been able to enter past the hall. However, the guarding curses had died along with the owner of the house.

Though the sneer on his face didn’t show it, Remus was sure he must have been feeling more than the boredom, while wrestling with the traps set for him. He really wanted to only empathise with him. Yet, for the most part, all he could focus on was the disgust in Severus’ voice in the previous part of the memory.

“The mongrel’s lair; then Potter’s...” Severus spoke to Voldemort himself. “It certainly is plausible that the traitors of the wizardkind would chose it to hide in if they were desperate, my Lord.”

With disdain was, of course, the only way Severus **could** speak of them, but the issue lay in how Remus was sure it was sincere there. It dawned on him that Severus, whether on purpose or subconsciously, had been refraining from letting that venom seep out to Remus. Any mentions of Harry or Sirius for the letters did not contain this – this condensed hate he used toward the Dark Lord. That lack of bile had led Remus astray. It allowed him to believe Severus’resentment had subsided, when in fact _he was only pretending for the sake of avoiding conflicts with me, probably._

Ever since Severus opened the doors to Grimmauld, the gloom of the murky corridors radiated from the memory. The inside looked less seedy than Remus remembered it. Still, it was clear the house had been standing abandoned for some time, despite Severus’ state being the proof of the recent Battle.

The atmosphere survived untouched. It was so unaffected that Remus’ imagination began drawing impossible figures emerging from the darkness to put Walburga’s curtain back onto the portrait when it fell. Severus didn’t bother to do so, letting her screeches tear the stagnant air around him freely.

With the echoes of Walburga’s voice behind him, he ascended the staircase, followed closely by Remus. Then, the memory _skipped?_ This had happened to Remus before and he assumed it was due to Severus’ choice of what to show him, which he so badly wanted not to be suspicious of. Suddenly, they were both in Regulus’ former bedroom.

Severus stopped in front of a stripe of bare wall between a wall hanging and an ornate bookcase. Then, he performed some kind of an intricate charm and a door appeared in the wall, flying ajar before him. They both entered and Remus was quite surprised to find himself in a room he hadn’t known of and one which was adjacent to Sirius’.

_Who told you about it, Severus? Could it somehow have been Regulus? Was it Albus?_

_Did Sirius even know?_ Remus stepped inside and that last of his misgivings dissipated. He recognised the room as the library he’d been to. Only it seemed to differ in stock to what he remembered it to house. When he approached ‘his bookshelf’ at the opposite end of the alley, Remus didn’t spot a single tome he could recognise. Instead, it was filled with Dark Magic books sporting more or less ominous titles.

 _I didn’t know they both had their entrances. I thought Sirius only added his later..._ – Remus mused, leaning against the barrier of the balcony and surveying the room below. 

Having climbed the ladder, Severus began methodically scanning the bookcases in search of something. He must have known precisely what he was looking for. Remus had stayed on the floor, craning his neck to watch him. He hadn’t been doing that for long when the memory skipped again, bringing him to the _culminating scene. Severus is clearly playing a movie director with his omissions._

“If the mongrel had thrown **that** out—“ Severus mumbled, possibly involuntarily. Seconds after that, he spotted the book he must have been pursuing. In his newfound tendency to gather objects belonging to dead people, which likened him to some sort of a morbid magpie, he took the book out and packed it into his left pocket. Then, he produced an identical tome into his right hand and carefully slid it back into the original’s place.

After that, Severus cast another password-charm, this time whispering the incantation out loud. The purple-covered, unassumingly thin book erupted into a much thicker one in his lissom hands. The title hadn’t been affected along with the size. It remained embedded in silver on the leather, abstruse, though not exactly boding – _“A soulful history”._ Remus had come upon at least a dozen of novels (wizarding and muggle alike) with a somewhat similar title. Yet, he was positive that this wasn’t one; at least not after it had transformed.

Once he had collected the tome, Severus left with Remus at his heels. This time, they went through the door on the other side of the gallery, close to where the purple tome had come from.

They emerged right into Sirius’ bedroom.

Remus did his best to ignore the poignant touches inside him when he looked around the room, signs of Sirius’ presence lingering everywhere. It awakened Remus’ recollections of him. He couldn’t help but think about the both of them in there; about Padfoot’s tired smiles in the mornings and the tirades about his “thankfully now dead” family delivered while his hand danced distractedly between Remus’ scars.

Severus, however, was obviously wasting no time on sentimentalism. The door disappeared behind him like it was supposed to, melting into the rest of the wall with only the poster of a muggle blonde in a green bikini swimsuit to single it out. He shot a checking glance at it before walking out of there as if the floor was burning his feet.

It was a regrettable decision for Remus to have placed himself so that he could see his face. Even once he’d left Sirius’ bedroom, the revulsion did not leave Severus’ features. He was wincing as if something deeply rotten had been placed right under his nose.

Before the two of them started descending the staircase, Severus’ memory of Grimmauld ended. Again, Remus was transported into a new one (in this case – of the Malfoy Manor) without any notice. More aggravatingly – without any insurance that what had been cut out truly wasn’t of any substance.

Severus’ persona around the Minister-to-be was so foreign to Remus that he had to strenuously repeat to himself, that _it’s a good thing he **seems** so incredibly faithful to ‘the Dark Lord’. I have to trust him. I have reasons to trust him._ Yet, that mantra couldn’t settle the mixture of repressed suspicions and simple irritation, which had begun to simmer in Remus. As he progressed through the other memories – suddenly landing in one happening directly after the battle (accidentally in a non-chronological order), the fire under his emotions only kept gaining in strength.

When he was done with all of the recollections, something afflicted Remus to rifle through the Headmaster’s library in search of the purple-covered book.

It took him a while to find it. As most things from Grimmauld – it had been jinxed. In this case, the jinx made it completely Accio-resistant, forcing Remus to browse through the books in a muggle way first. Curious as to what Severus would have needed it for, he copied the charm he had cast in the memory. Then, he opened the book and began paging through it.

If it looked old before Remus used the spell, it was absolutely ancient once it had transformed. The leather cover was peeled in a few places, sticking a little to his hands as he held it and threatening to come apart at the seams, releasing the pieces of parchment.

The contents, unlike the title, were in runes. As the name could have suggested in a veiled way, they included, amongst other things – means to extract, shatter, split and move or banish human souls. From what Remus had seen today, they were irrecusably connected to the phenomena of Voldemort’s immortality. Thus, they also related to the possibilities of killing him, which Severus was clearly more intent to examine than act upon.

The book had been written in. Given Severus’ habit of scribbling over the tomes that were his own, that wasn’t too unexpected. However, it wasn’t Severus’ cramped, barely decipherable, black handwriting that covered the parchment, stained in yellow by the passing of time. It was an elegant, though oftentimes negligently uneven cursive. On many pages, the dark green ink had faded to aquamarine. 

Remus knew that handwriting too well not recognise it instantly.

One, beloved name instantly surfaced in his mind again, bringing with it the feeling of oppressive loss, always buried deep inside him: _Sirius._

_Sirius’ writing, Sirius’ notes, Sirius’ book. And Severus ~~took~~ stole it. Stole it, calling him a mongrel—_

_And he hasn’t mentioned it ever before. As if hoping it would fly over my head._ In that precise moment, it didn’t even cross Remus’ mind that Severus couldn’t have hoped for that, if he had given him access to the memory of the book.

Remus couldn’t justify **why** this made him so furious. He just noted how rage inflamed his veins. His brain took fire before he could even properly read the notes on the margins.

From that, suddenly, resentment he wouldn’t have accused himself of carrying ran rampant over all the other matters, all that he’d seen, all that he’d conjectured. Its cracking jammed the voice of reason trying to remind him that Severus was on his side, no matter how much of a cruel bastard he was pretending to be in the memories. All the qualms and criticisms he had towards his today’s watch-list came to light. For a moment, Remus was just glowering down the open page of the book, unable to focus on it. His eyes would have doubtlessly burnt holes through it, hadn’t it been for the quality of parchment of the Black family’s books.

Since coincidence always has to complicate matters, the sounds coming through the almost unnoticeably ajar door disturbed Remus. Those indicated Severus had just arrived and was now speaking to Frankie.

Fortunately, even when absolutely full of ire, Remus was not actually predisposed to act rashly. He held a reign on his temper far too strong for that. If that hadn’t been the case, the duel in the laboratory would have become reality, not just a fear of the both of them. As it was, however, he still later could barely recognise himself in his own deeds, in how he had forgotten himself, in how he almost- _attacked_ Severus. _Him, of all people, him who has every reason to be afraid of anything coming from me that even roughly resembles the wolf._

Now lying in bed, Remus was contemplating their confrontation and coming to the conclusion that it was very... _well, very Sirius-like_ of him to have acted the way he did. At least he preferred to compare this to Sirius’ fiery outbursts than to his own feral nature. 

It was quite formidable that Severus had endured today’s events with patience. Hearing his breathing, not too far from himself, only amplified Remus’ shock about Severus’ growing tolerance of him. However, it was highly possible that he had impaired it with his actions tonight. Maybe it just hadn’t shown yet. Besides, after all, he had quite plainly felt Severus’ gaze on what connected him to the wolf – his scars – when they were talking.

With those and other inconsequential thoughts swirling through his head and surprisingly pleasantly drowning the ones considering the war and Voldemort, he slowly drowsed away.

\---

It was a new day. In the light of morning everything always felt different. Yesterday, before going to sleep he had rewatched those parts of the memories he had problems with. All that, combined with the shame for his outburst, gave Remus an entirely new perspective on the matter he had touched upon yesterday.

He still was narked that Severus had kept it from him for so long. Despite Snape’s words, Remus suspected it was caused by him subconsciously expecting ‘the rash Gryffindor’ to be mad at his inactivity.

However, inspecting the recollections once more let him notice many easily omitted details – such as the letter to Minerva written by Severus during Remus’ coma. The parchment lied unassumingly on the table in the library at Spinner’s and since the memory didn’t even concern it directly, didn’t catch Remus’ eye before. Amongst other things, it read, _“He had measures to cling to life; I believe them all to have been crushed and he now plans to ‘disappear’ for around a year. Do what you wish with that knowledge.”_ So Severus did **tell them** , at last – just didn’t correct him on it yesterday.

Either way, it was all to be cleared up soon. And, if luck allowed, he could maybe talk about the purple book too, now that he wasn’t aflame with emotion on the mere thought of who it had belonged to.

Severus was already up when Remus entered the kitchen. With his back turned at the door to the bedroom, he was kneeling on the blanket by the Christmas tree. In front of him, though not visible from the entrance – hidden by the black figure completely, Teddy must have been sitting. Severus had a kid book spread out before him. Based on the repeated “Wand. This is a wand.”, followed by gurgling and giggling of the child, he was trying to teach Teddy words.

Frankie was bustling around. The sounds of her preparing coffee and putting out plates covered up Remus’ steps. She noticed him, but, wanting not to disturb the scene, he gestured to her to keep quiet. Giving him a nod, she returned to her activities silently. Now he wondered whether he should cough to announce his presence or wait until Severus would realise on his own (and which of the options would be more awkward).

Severus meanwhile, in an absolutely solemn tone (he usually wasn’t one for cooing), continued – “And this is a lamb. A small sheep. Angus transfigured the lamb with his wand – into a cat in a hat—“

“Morning, everyone.” Remus chanced.

Severus started a little. However, he finished the rhyme, as if he hadn’t heard him. Patiently, Remus waited for acknowledgement. Finally, Severus turned to face him and respond (still with blotches of blush visible on his skin above the scowl). Only after that did Remus approach them to say “Hi” to Teddy.

Soon, both of them and the kid were seated by the table. For a while, they ate in silence. Then, Severus began, “You wanted to criticise me some, Lupin, if memory serves.”

Immediately Remus was forced to breast the remorse for his yesterday’s insensitivity. The guilt returned with the gratefulness from before. After all, there was little more personal than memories, especially from someone this guarded. Even if they weren’t entirely complete ( _honestly,_ _have I ever actually expected they would be?_ ) and Severus expected amazing levels of alertness from him as a viewer, instead of just giving his commentary on them in the first place.

He chose not to apologise again, but promised himself to be much more considerate in formulating his objections this time.

“It serves well, then—“ Remus asserted. Teddy had just finished eating, so Remus took him out of the high chair and to Frankie, so that she’d keep the kid occupied during their discussion. “Now’s fine for you, I’m guessing?”

Severus nodded stiffly.

And so they began talking. Remus, being the one steering the conversation, went through it all in chronological order. However, he skipped the recollections from Dumbledore for now. Those and Sirius’ book belonged together, and could wait for later.

Like he had already confessed, Severus was supposed to die. Although the memories of that didn’t make their way into the gifted vial, it was clear that wish accompanied him throughout the battle, just like he had pointed out. _And who could blame him,_ when the first news he was hit with (with which the memory of the battlefield started) was a joyful “Potter’s dead, Snape! They’re all scuttling away!” from Rabastan Lestrange.

They spoke about the then and current roles of the Lestranges. Again, Severus mentioned Rodolphus, this time in connection to his yesterday’s meeting with Lucius. When that topic had been exhausted, Remus stated, exercising restraint not to let blame into his voice, “Flitwick was fighting three to one. And—“ he added hastily, seeing Severus’ lips purse into an incredibly thin line. “—I suppose you’ll say you couldn’t have helped him—but you did then do that sneaky spell to save Charlie, which could have been seen all the same, and furthermore – this was you choosing sides, wasn’t it? I know I’m speculating here – but this was before they ran away, and I’d say if you did help Filius then...”

“Do you really think I chose, Lupin?” Severus retorted with a question of his own, sighing deeply. “Say what I may about not caring for my life back then, I do have instincts when I am being targeted. Like with Minerva, in my so-called escape earlier – I did not fight to hurt him—“

“—I’m not implying that. But the others definitely did—and—there’s no use crying over spilled potion, of course, but... he lost his life in that duel.”

“Funnily enough – I have noticed.” Severus said sarcastically and with a deadpan expression, though clutching his cup a little tighter. “The current environment at the time, did not exactly invite academic discussions about goals and intentions. Nott and that – Archey – Archer – something of the sort... one of the youngsters as you’ve seen – assumed I was with them. I hardly believe the Order would just adopt me back because of something as little anyways. And not aiding them then could have been detrimental later.”

“You’re right—” Remus conceded. “They wouldn’t – well, I too, I suppose, would count it as a stray spell, if something of yours hit any of the Eaters. Definitely not enough to allow you into any safe house... And well, I have to give you that you actually did help later – great use of Opugno, by the way…” He said, referring to the tree roots Severus tripped the Carrows with, making Alecto’s Avada Kedavra miss Charlie and letting the two Gryffindors evacuate from the range of their wands into the Forest. “—Hermione understood because she saw you cast the reviving spell on that boy before—“

“Possibly. The Carrows had – and still have – absolutely no idea, thanks to her mimicking me. Though all the Weasley boys have better reflexes than she does.” Severus judged, oddly fairly.

It was hers and Ron’s effort combined that had sent him to the ground earlier, with Snape’s second Stupefy of the battle. He must have been on a potion, considering that the spells only took his consciousness away for short moments.

“Then there’s them running away—“ Remus went on. “I mean… I know you restricted yourself to stunners and mild curses, which for you is definitely the most placid there is—“

Severus kept his eyes narrowed almost into slits, so it was rather hard to tell, but Remus had a hunch that he had just rolled them. “But?”

“—But goddamn you, Severus – Slughorn is old enough to die from a stunner to the chest, surely you know that.”

“But he did not.” Severus reminded with a nonchalant shrug. “And if not the stunner, he could have been hit with something else. Which is the case with each of my decisions – or yours, for that matter.”

“If you are subtly pointing to the fact that me picking through it doesn’t change the past—”

“I was not intending to be ‘subtle’. I agree with some of your belated suggestions Remus – but what’s done is done.”

 _Look who’s saying the past should stay in the past..._ – Remus noted a tad acrimoniously. Out loud, however, he only stated, “I know. Although, it gives me some comfort to be able to speculate.”

“Comfort?” Severus repeated, with undisguised surprise. “Well, whatever helps you sleep at night, I suppose.”

“—Plus it has strategic value, in my opinion. Analysing each step, mistakes included. As long as it makes no one blame themselves more… And, in your case, I believe the maximum might have been reached already—” Remus stated knowingly (though, in all fairness, he was guessing). Gaze fixed on his teacup, he was pouring himself tea with concentration. When he raised his eyes up onto Severus’ face again, it bore no marks of him even having heard his remark.

Nevertheless, in case he had struck a chord that Severus was simply very determined to cover up, Remus altered the topic slightly. Severus certainly enjoyed showing off his knowledge about things. There now was a perfect occasion for that, so Remus asked, “By the way, speaking of what could’ve been affected by your actions – was it a healing curse you cast on me? I realised from the Latin it has something to do with burning – stopped internal bleeding, right?”

Severus inclined his head in confirmation.

“I haven’t heard it before...”

“A counter-curse. But yes, Dark Magic still. Hurts quite badly when applied without a numbing charm, but you wouldn’t remember. My notes on it should be in... I think in one of the tomes of the Imperial Encyclopaedia... possibly 6th or 7th.” _You are right with your guesses and you can learn it from there, if you want to_ – Remus completed the unsaid. “As usual – Antonin gaily invents things, then the rest of us have to rack our brains to devise how to heal them—“

“—Because Rowle borrows them and he isn’t half as precise, so your side can get hit too.” Remus finished for him, remembering both the intel revealed during Order strategy meetings and his own experience with the blond’s dreadful aim.

“For instance—” Severus agreed, taking last sips of his coffee. “And in my case – because occasionally that has its uses for extremely ungrateful Order members.” It was impossible to tell whether Severus was actually offended or just joking. If anything, his tone suggested the former option.

Remus felt himself blush bashfully this time. “Well – I’ve watched some things for the second time and it did hit me that, at least in the case of information, I should probably retract some of my words on you not doing enough—“ he began explaining himself.

“You are welcome to do that anytime, Lupin.” Severus cut in, waving his hand benevolently. _Oh, so you **were** kidding with the voice. _“I am not exactly a connoisseur of being called an idler, not any more than a coward.”

“I do so now – in that case. And I’ll be sure to make a note of that for the future, then—“ Remus declared, with a little smile of relief.

“Good.”

Silence fell for a longer while, though they remained seated in front of each other, with currently empty cups in between them.

Frankie had shot them a glance or two to assess the situation. Then, using the pause, she asked Remus whether she could take the Little One out for a walk. To his “Of course,” she disappeared in the bedroom. Soon, she emerged with Teddy looking like a little Eskimo in his woollen scarf and a hat on top of the tightly fitting coat, to then depart through the door to the office, assisting Teddy in waving them goodbye.

Once the door closed behind the elf, Severus broke the silence. “If this was all, then that whole preannounced litany of pretences was false-advertising.”

“Are you complaining, Severus?” Remus wondered, similarly with tongue in cheek. Seeing as Severus shook his head, he added, “So I thought. Though, actually, there’s one rather important thing I had failed to mention before – well, I partly did yesterday, but let’s agree that doesn’t quite count. The book – on soul magic – have you read it?”

“Barely.” Severus’ fingers found the cup again and curled around its handle. “Even in my Lord’ absence I haven’t grown careless enough to do it just for leisure. I already know too much. And there was little necessity for that.”

 _Passiveness, again._ That odd detachment from things that didn’t need immediate intervening or which Severus hadn’t been ordered to act upon by anyone. It reminded Remus unpleasantly of himself every now and then. Maybe that, and not just Sirius’ remembrance, was what drew him to such anger yesterday – Severus’ instant resignation to installing himself in the horrible reality, without many attempts at affecting it.

 _But he did take the book – he was preparing for the future, then. –_ Remus noticed, striving to remain objective. “All the more reason I don’t get why you haven’t told me about it earlier—“ he remarked out loud, trying not to sound reproachful. With a wave of his wand at the tea set, he refilled both of their cups. “—But never mind. I will.”

Severus gave no reaction to that statement, so clearly it didn’t come as a shock to him.

“—I already paged through it. I thought it was Sirius’ writing at first – and it some places I believe it actually is, his post-Azkaban one – but the other one can’t be his, considering the contents.”

This, Severus apparently did not realise or expect, for his brow raised with interest. Then, clearly finding showing any of it in something considering ‘the Black’ indecent, he wiped that off his face and restrained himself from speaking.

Remus, however, gave his elucidation without prompting. “—I have to assume it’s Regulus’. Somehow, I don’t see any other of the Blacks writing _“dumb idea”_ on a page of an ancient tome that mentions immortality and such.”

Severus, now with an odd mix of amusement and repugnance on his suddenly tense features, slipped in a “Both of them would know a dumb idea, certainly. Immortality – not so much.”

Possibly, remembering what Remus told him on the matter of insulting Sirius yesterday, he reshaped his expression into a blanker one again. Apparently – to assuage him, he added, “If Regulus suspected, then at least it is clear why he died.” This of the Black brothers must have earned a drop more of Severus’ respect, judging by his tone. “Black however – well... Kreacher was the secret keeper of that book, but Albus – his portrait, to be precise – never specified **when** he found out about it. Black, knowing him, could have—“

Whatever he had primarily meant to say, he checked himself upon seeing Remus’ warning glower. While casting for another route for his thoughts, he protracted the last syllable. It didn’t escape Remus’ notice that a terrible sneer had momentarily curved his lips.

This was the final straw for Remus’ tone to harden, when he interjected, “Severus, for Merlin’s sake – will you stop offending the dead?”

Severus, even if he had ineptly been treading warily before, now completely abandoned that guise and snorted derisively. “Wish you had been equally disturbed about offending the living. Whether yesterday or in your youth, Lupin.”

“I’m sorry for yesterday, I really am. But don’t start **that** Severus – it’s so childish to start that again, especially a moment after you’ve said that past is in the past—“ Remus appealed, but to no avail.

“I will do what I please, Lupin. And you would be best advised to restrict your parenting to the kid of yours—” Severus suggested, in a very soft voice. “Considering the senselessness of _your_ —“ he uttered the word with carefully applied venom, possibly hinting that he knew a little more than Remus would wish him to. “—Black, no matter his intentions, it is a miracle he had ever found that tome. Though he did have limitless time to look for it, did he not? Well – until he decided to set himself a limit with that venture of his, at least.”

It was impossible not to notice that Remus was growingly irate. Blood had flown away from his cheeks and he found himself clutching his fists forcefully, so that his knuckles were as white as the scar on his right hand. Severus, however, seemed to be enjoying his reaction, surveying it with his eyes narrowed and a thin lipped smirk – as if finally taking his revenge for yesterday.

Remus, this time, managed to stop himself from any type of a physical reaction – _I am not a violent beast_. Instead, he channelled his irritation to retort in an almost equally vicious manner, “You and I both know who was goading him to leave.”

For a moment, Severus just glowered at him, and then lowered his eyes onto the cup he was holding. “I see—” he said coldly after the pause, putting the cup on the tabletop with a loud clank. “So supposedly I am to blame for that? Not your _friend’s_ —“ _there’s that signifying tone again_ , “—brass, by any chance? Besides, inculpating-wise, you are contradicting yourself a bit, Lupin.”

“I didn’t say I blamed you – I’m far from it—“ Remus began to amend.

“Well – that’s a relief—“ Severus interrupted, voice soaked in acridness. “It truly takes a lot away from your accusations when you add a lie on top.”

Remus, however, didn’t let that get to him, still speaking very calmly, though gesturing with his hands. “—I’m not lying. I’m just trying to get you to understand that letting certain things go is the pragmatic thing to do. We could sit here, recriminating each other for ages, I’d guess, but what’s the use in that? That, unlike, say – reviewing battle tactics, is just a waste of time, Severus, a waste of time. We don’t really know how much we’ve got of that – to the next war, I mean—“ he added, suddenly feeling that this sounded a little gauchely, “—so it’s not wise to squander it.”

Although Remus was sure he’d agree with his point at some other time, Severus suddenly got defensive and in a very impetuous way. “Recriminating, huh? And what can you personally hold against me, Remus? What have I ever done to you, apart from ensuring you will not carelessly endanger Hogwarts’ students, perhaps?”

“Somehow, I doubt it would help your approach if I listed it—” Remus reasoned, with a drop of irony. Then, trying to discourage him from pursuing this direction of conversation, he declared, sincerely, “—Though that’s exactly what I wanted to avoid doing. I’d really much rather keep all that – as irrelevant – buried away. A lot has changed, after all...”

“No, by all means – do list it—” Severus drawled, with frigidness that made his whispery tone sound like a special, frozen brand of silk being rumpled. “Frankly, I am rather curious as to what equals you four terrorizing me for years, or trying to kill me ‘that one time’, I really am.”

Having long abandoned drinking his tea, Remus brought his hand to his temple. Leaning on his other palm, he looked at Severus from under it. “It doesn’t equal – this is not a bidding, Severus – comparing such things is otiose—“

Severus jutted his chin challengingly as he sneered, “Aaand you are backing down, immediately. My favourite trait of Gryffindor, as usual.” The movement turned out to be a little too vigorous and a pang of pain must have swept over him from the neck wound, since he winced abruptly. His fingers twitched marginally, as if eager to wrap around the scar, though otherwise – he remained still.

His other hand was hidden under the table, but Remus was sure it now held a wand, since Severus’ left arm jerked upwards as he went on, “Why so? Are you afraid of me, Remus – when you fail to catch me defenceless, at least?” As often – quick to remove himself from the situation while having the last word, he got up from the table. “Or – say – four on one? That last option – what a pity – is rather unachievable now, which, I suppose is exactly why you sneaked up on me. Like a snake, to add a sprinkle more of duplicity to your accusations...”

Before he could think it through, Remus had grasped his forearm. Severus grimaced quite grotesquely, but he didn’t struggle and Remus, though instantly furious at himself for resolving to aggression again, didn’t let go. Severus was standing straightened to his full height and bounded to the place by the shackle of Remus’ hand on his right arm. He leant his head down a little, which due to the hooknose made him look like some enormous black bird of prey.

Glowering upwards into the narrowed onyx eyes, Remus said, keeping his tone casual and mild, “Well, if you insist on it, Severus – there you go. For starters, you worked for Vol-your Lord in the first war, assisting in killing my friends and acquaintances from the Old Crowd – for all I know – possibly even being there when some of them died. You delivering the prophecy brought upon the deaths of James and Lily, for example—“

The news that he was mindful of this clearly caught Severus unawares, and an expression of mingled rage and _regret?_ swept swiftly through his face. He evaded Remus’ gaze until his usual mask returned.

 _Since when does he regret James’ death?_ – Remus thought, just like when he heard about this from Harry before. Unlike then, when he simply concluded that this was where Dumbledore’s mistake lay, now Remus caught a glimpse of another explanation – _Maybe it’s not James’ death that he regrets..._

“—Then, you were quite horrible to James’ son, who – as I suppose you know, was dear to me. You almost let an innocent man get kissed by Dementors because he hurt you at school, and, as I’ve said, you didn’t help Sirius’ damn vulnerable state later either – though there the problem lay with both of you...” he amended justly. “There was also the matter you mentioned yourself – though I’d never hold that particular thing against you – I should’ve been fired for that. You could have just waited for me to resign, actually.” For a moment Remus searched through his mind for any other elephants in the room that needed addressing, but for now run into none that would fit in here. “I think that’s all—“ he concluded, giving a one-armed shrug, since his right hand was still immobilising Severus’ forearm.

Severus’ other arm, the one whose long, bony fingers partly concealed the black wand, hung loosely by his side. He continued to stare Lupin down, with his brow furrowed, but motionless and silent. Apparently he hadn’t actually expected for his wish of hearing a whole litany of reproaches to be fulfilled.

Without much hope that would work now, once he’d let himself be egged on into a verbal sparring of this sort, Remus amended, placatingly, “For the record – the fact that I’ve mentioned all those things doesn’t exactly mean I blame you for them – just that I am aware of them having happened. I’ve let them go a long time ago, because for all I over-focus on the past, I’m not you, Severus – I don’t cling to slights from a whole other life. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what I and the boys did—were doing—to you at school, but ‘what’s done is done’, isn’t it?”

Seeing as that changed absolutely nothing about Severus’ countenance, he gave a deep sigh, looking at him pleadingly. “—That being said – I obviously have no idea what that did to you, should one speculate. But I can’t change the past either, no matter how many reasons I’ve got to wish I could – so please, Severus, just let those things go.”

“You are correct – you have no idea—” Severus finally responded, through gritted teeth. Then, he tore his forearm from Remus grip and hastily strode out the room, heading straight for the laboratory. This time, Remus was convinced, he’d make sure the door was fully closed and well protected against intrusion.

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Frankie trotted through it, carrying a florid-faced Teddy, with his green-clad head resting against the fluffy towels that served as her winter clothes. Somehow, only then did Remus notice that one of the teacups had fallen over, the rest of Severus’ tea spilling over the table. He cleaned that with a single spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Self-indulgent author's note:** There is a single line up there that is an indirect quote from F+M lyrics, wonder if anyone can spot it though.  
>  Also, shout-out to @lupininspired from Instagram! 


	14. The Alien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit late, but here it goes: 

Severus wouldn’t speak to him for the rest of the day. He was avoiding Remus deliberately and at all costs, moving only between the laboratory and the office, despite a lack of duties on this a Christmas break Sunday.

Remus didn’t try to mend things. He chose to wait this through (though while fully registering the cant of that, given how he had declared himself against just biding one’s time).

It didn’t just end on that one day. No – this time it was a full blown tantrum, which Severus was clearly more determined to nurture than ever before. He was communicating with Remus solely through Frankie. It was the elf who informed Remus about another excursion to the Malfoys’ on Tuesday and all the walks Teddy was being taken on.

Every important matter that Remus thought worth talking through, was awaiting Severus’ mercy. Although Remus was aware that he had provoked this silent treatment, he was equally sure that it wasn’t entirely his fault. They had far too many skeletons ready to jump out the closets of their shared home and conversations ( _arguments)_ of this kind were inevitable.

Besides, there was nothing Remus knew of, which he could assuredly name as Severus’ breaking point, so _as usual_ he was just left confused and swarmed by all the negativity. Severus himself didn’t acknowledge it, resorting to ice coldness instead.

Remus, on his side, was still deliberating whether and to what extent Severus had done things ‘the way Dumbledore would have wished him to’. He didn’t trust Severus’ judgement the way he had Albus’ and the level of importance of their decisions was now certainly comparable.

The urge to consult all this with Albus wasn’t surprising to Remus. After all, currently he was completely deprived of the possibility of resolving his doubts through taking to Severus. Therefore, when Severus was away at the Manor, Remus sneaked into the office again to converse with the former Headmaster.

The sun was shining outside, but the curtains enveloped the windows thoroughly and, combined with the rows of bookcases framing its walls, made the office look dim. In Dumbledore’s days it was filled with objects – now Spartan emptiness ruled in it, with just the necessities, which weren’t kept in plain view either. The cabinet that held the Pensieve remained empty, as the basin still resided on the desk in the Chambers.

While still on the threshold, Remus shot a multiple target spell to obscure the vision of all the portraits he knew to be linked to other wizarding institutions (or places at Hogwarts). This, combined with the Muffliato, required quite a bit of work.

_Better safe than sorry._

He didn’t bother with Phineas, however – Grimmauld was protected and empty, thus safe. Therefore the Black, whose depiction hung directly in front of the entrance to the Chambers, took it upon himself to stare him down with a supercilious look.

“Bereave me of sight, will you?” he asked in his Sirius-like voice, though with any warmth swapped for disdain. Then, despite Remus’ shaking his head, he appended, “How like Potter and the camaraderie.”

That remark, which he probably hadn’t heard earlier only due to Phineas having slept through his last visit in the office, caught Remus’ attention. “What do you mean, professor Black?” he inquired politely.

“You are barging – intruding – into the Headmaster’s office, Mister...“ he stammered, feigning forgetfulness, though it was obvious he had recognized him. “—Lupus was it?”

“Lupin.” Remus obliged, still tactfully.

“—Mr. Lupin, then – and assailing the upstanding residents of its portraits.”

“Well, that much I know, Mister Black, and I am terribly sorry for the disrespect – in fact, I’ll be very grateful if you pass my apologies to all the harmed… I don’t mean to offend and I definitely wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have to – only, you see, it’s a necessary safety measure.”

Remus could swear he heard Dumbledore snicker quietly at this perfect display of his skill in fawning, the appreciation of which the headmaster must have passed on to his portrait.

The other headmaster wasn’t at all impressed. “’Terribly sorry’, now listen to that—“ Black scoffed, the similarity in tone growing more and more uncomfortable on Remus. “Perhaps you should ask professor Snape for that spell of his. It may, if only slightly, improve your treatment of the meritorious headmasters of this school, as compared to blind-folding them like hostages, Mister Lupin.”

 _What spell?_ – Remus wondered internally, a little peeved by the man’s deliberate teasing him into asking questions. It brought to his mind another black-haired Hogwarts’ headmaster and a stray conclusion that Phineas combined the worst traits of Sirius and Severus, thus making him so unbearable. He decided, however, to ask not this one, but the current Headmaster about that spell, sometime in the future.

“I was interested in why would the kids obscure your vision, actually. They didn’t want Severus looking into the house?” Remus inquired instead, forcing steadiness on his voice and ignoring the recollection of both Harry and Grimmauld, which had appeared sharp and clear in his mind.

“The senseless brats removed me from my rightful place. It was professor Snape who returned me to the house of my forefathers.” Phineas responded, not-so-reticently. He then added a guess filled with scorn, “You, however, I should assume, have condemned us all to your presence not to speak about the manqué saviour of the wizarding world, Mister Lupin, but to talk **oddity** to an eccentric, have you not?”

Remus ignored his snide, telling himself that trying to teach a dead Headmaster to behave would have even less chance of success than he’d had with a certain living one. His eyes instinctively turned to “the eccentric”.

Albus must have been listening in from the moment Remus entered and spoke to Phineas. However, only now did he grace the visitor with his attention more directly – with a peaceful smile and a slight twitch of his brow.

Remus had to pass all the other portraits before stopping in front of the one picturing the purple-and-gold clad man. The few ‘assailed’ were still muttering curses they couldn’t hear the response to, some were sleeping or merely pretending to, others – following him watchfully with their painted eyes.

Like the last time, halting vefore Albus’ depiction, Remus felt instantly assuaged, though with a faint sting of grief in his heart. It was such an odd feeling – having Dumbledore speak to him, recognise him, allay his misdoubts, when he wasn’t really there anymore. Yet, when the blue eyes, so similar to the winter sky beyond the window, settled upon him and the deep voice said, “Remus – so nice to see you again.” the man felt awfully real.

“Professor—“

“It isn’t another worry that brings you, I hope?” Dumbledore guessed obliquely.

Remus sighed at being so see-through. “—I’m afraid I have to admit it’s exactly that.”

Somewhere in the background, Phineas Nigellus gave a pitying snigger.

“Well then—“ The Headmaster shifted in his seat, placing his veined, thin hand on his knee. “—what would it be this time? It concerns my successor, I presume?”

Suddenly Remus realised that not only was he intruding, but also – that he was only visiting the Headmaster whenever very desperate and solely to _basically gossip about Severus._

 _Goodness gracious, what’s up with me, lately?_ Remus asked himself with a note of reprimand. _Why am I bothering him—no, even more foolishly – the portrait of him – about this again?_ However, he had doubts – so many of them.

Dumbledore, though it was impossible that his portrait possessed the same talents at Legilimency its model had, seemed to have heard his thoughts.

“Remus, while I appreciate the company, all the while being mindful of your limited choice of thereof, I hardly expect you to come here for tea.” Dumbledore leaned to the left of the frame to reveal the same set that stood on the current Headmaster’s desk. “—And Severus, I believe, is against such accommodations as lemon drops.”

“Or chocolate.” Remus put in his pennyworth.

“Certainly so.” Dumbledore agreed with a smile, then inclined his head, encouraging him to speak.

“Do you know, professor, about the return?” Remus asked gingerly. He did not specify whose – suddenly very aware of all the other headmasters around, straining their ears.

The portrayed man’s cold gaze pierced him for a moment before he replied, “Yes, I am conscious of it. I suppose you have been told all I’ve shared with Severus on the matter of Voldemort?”

Remus nodded, though not with full conviction, thinking of the vials on Horcruxes. Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye he saw that many of the painted silhouettes shuddered at the name. Some, such as the one belonging to Dippet, were visibly suppressing their urge to interject, probably only out of the respect for Dumbledore.

Albus, who evidently was conscious of the reaction of the room, added airily, in lieu of justification, “The taboo curse does not cover these walls. Besides, I would’ve expected you to have been accustomed to me using Tom Riddle’s chosen name. Moreover, I cannot imagine even the Death Eaters attacking me now—“ he gestured to the frame of his portrait.

“The taboo still holds then?” Remus inquired automatically. Once again he wondered if one of the requirements for becoming the Headmaster of Hogwarts was being able to withhold crucial information only to later reveal it unexpectedly. _Do they all do this on purpose? And in turns, so that each can complete the puzzle left by another?_

Now Dumbledore nodded and, in a somewhat patronising tone, said, “Then, surely, your question will be along the lines of – whether you should trust what Severus engages in, seeing as he is, alas, deprived of proper guidance of mine. Besides – my judgement in itself had already turned out dubious, had it not?”

Remus, who definitely wouldn’t have formulated his question in such a straightforward manner, _not to Albus, anyways_ , was tongue-tied enough not to interrupt.

“You are noticeably doubtful, Remus. Not without reason, of course – I would presume you are questioning all former declarations of mine now.” Remus tried to deny that, opening his mouth to speak and shaking his head, but Dumbledore only raised his hand dismissively. “I was the one who told you, after all, that Harry was the best hope we had—“ here his eyes started becoming slightly misty, “—and if so, then one could assume all the hope is gone.”

Dumbledore then recounted to him the full wording of the Prophecy concerning Harry. Remus listened intently, while the flicker of hope smouldering deep in him was once again extinguished, only to then be replanted thanks to a vague conclusion.

Having paused for a moment, Dumbledore resumed already without the sullen look, “I admit I have not foreseen the current situation. I had imagined it, of course, but refrained from considering it a real possibility. As it is, however, I am hopeful that light will show itself again. What will have to be decided in the future, will be, when the time comes – I am sure of it. In terms of my trust in Severus – nothing has changed.”

And that was it.

The man fell silent and closed his bright blue eyes. Although Remus did understand that as the signal for him to leave, he remained stuck in place for a moment, waiting for Dumbledore to continue. Only when he had thoroughly ensured Albus wouldn’t stop pretending to be asleep, did Remus leave the office.

Remus was not entirely satisfied by this first longer consultation with the portrait of the Headmaster. In fact, he felt rather disappointed, though he couldn’t say precisely what else he had expected.

\---

A few hours later, Remus was silently handed his goblet of Wolfsbane. Lately, this was the only contact the two of them had except for sleeping in the same room (where, too, Severus was meticulously avoiding him by keeping up his ridiculous sleeping schedule from the working days).

It was also during those forced exchanges of a dark glower into a mild “Thank you, Severus.” above a silver chalice steaming with acrid blue clouds, when Severus finally spoke to him, on New Year’s Eve.

Remus was always very mindful of the onyx eyes observing him as he drank the potion, as if ensuring whether he wouldn’t try to trick Severus and skip a dose. As he swallowed the last gulp, no doubt wincing horribly, he put the goblet down and slid it to Severus. The long, pale fingers curled around the stem, but he didn’t lift it yet.

“Was it Black?” Severus asked sharply.

Remus filled that question in for himself, though in a way he wouldn’t have expected Severus to have intended it. Confused, he blinked at him, “What do you mean?”

“Was it Black – what infuriated you so much in my memories that you cornered me? Was it Grimmauld and by association _your—_ “ the word once again sounded like an thinly veiled insult and, by the quiver of his upper lip, Severus was making an effort not to sneer, “—Black?”

“Yes.” Remus admitted, only a bit surprised he had guessed that. Severus relaxed a tad upon that response, so Lupin chose to return to the familiar territory of taunting. “Took you almost a week to figure it out?”

Severus shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Better that, than your cogitating for months, is it not?”

“Sure, but you’re a hypocrite.” Remus agreed with a relieved grin, as he waved the fumes away with his wand, so that Teddy could return to the room.

Snape’s eyes twinkled, though not dangerously so. “You are a fine one to talk, Remus ‘ **I** let the past go, unless perhaps I didn’t and I will now prove that – with a list’ Lupin.”

Remus snickered quietly. “Point to you, Severus, I concede.” He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and Severus smirked fully now. “Though you’re still saying that like one couldn’t learn it from you. We both tend to live in the past, I guess. With solid reasons for that...” _to each his own,_ but that was the truth.

“Well—“ Severus began, twisting his head towards the house elf, who had just apparated into the room with Teddy and was currently setting the kid onto the floor in his usual play-place. Severus pointed to the child with his chin. “Somebody is going to grow up resentful and unaccustomed to the concept of ‘the present.’” he noted, with quite the self-insight. Then, he joined Remus’ amusement with a soft snort of his own.

Hell if Remus knew why exactly that happened (and something was telling him that Severus had no idea either). Nevertheless, as it turned out – Severus’ approaching him meant that things were fine between them again.

Although the Full Moon was approaching and Remus was a bit testy, they decided to talk, picking up the conversation where they left it almost a week ago. This time, both of them were cautious and making every effort to avoid letting it erupt into a quarrel.

Remus had already read a great portion of the purple book (a little too concerned with the irrelevant scribbles on the margins than he probably should have been). Thus, he encouraged Severus to cast on whether Voldemort had managed to restore enough of his soul to ensure his own immortality again. They came to the conclusion that he might not have. It was an optimistic one, though with the firm basis of Voldemort’s trust in his own judgement. However, as the wielder of all the three Hallows, he was supposed to be immortal anyways.

Albus’ portrait had since been invited to their discussion. It had been mounted off the office wall and brought into the chambers to stand next to the Christmas tree, bringing joy to both the depiction and Teddy.

Here Dumbledore turned out to be a little more talkative than when in the company of the other headmasters, weighing in every now and then. Mostly, however, he was busy waggling his brows at Teddy, who had already sprouted white hair and was now sitting in front of the picture, trying to imitate it further.

It was Albus who assured them, as he had done while alive, that “The main mistake Voldemort makes is overconfidence.” He also provided a few details on the Hallows, in particular – the fate of the Elder Wand, which neither of them had been mindful of before.

Dumbledore was the only one of them entirely sure that at this point Voldemort was aware of his own status as the supposed Master of Death; why he was so convinced however, Albus did not reveal.

On top of that, Dumbledore, just like Remus when blinded by anger (though definitely without the fierceness of that), believed that the Dark Lord was still very much mortal. In his opinion, there was “much more to mastering death than just possessing three enchanted objects”. Him being wrong would mean that Voldemort had truly become invincible. That in turn, was far too terrifying a notion; even Severus, with his constant cynical reminders of the hopelessness of their situation, didn’t want to acknowledge it as the correct one.

The portrayed Dumbledore also betrayed Remus’ consultation with him earlier in the week. That caused Remus’ cheeks to turn an indecently obvious pink and made him wonder – why they were even treating a portrait so seriously and – since when had he become so easily embarrassed.

Every time he weighed in, Dumbledore would then return to his mysterious silences, leaving them to talk as if he wasn’t there. In those whiles, he focused on providing “limited grandfatherly guidance” to Teddy, who was delighted, even if a little disappointed that he couldn’t grab the man’s soft-looking beard.

Soon, they were finished with the topic of the book (“I do not want to see it unless I absolutely have to, but you are free to do whatever with it. Well—not **whatever** —perhaps. Experimenting with your soul would not be well-advised, I suppose.”).

“How did you get into the library in the first place?” Remus asked at the end, as means of changing the subject. “I mean… I haven’t ever gone through the house searching – but it says something that I haven’t known about it—“ he chose not to provide excessive detail. “—Its contents, I suppose, vary from dangerous to highly disrupting, don’t they? And I don’t mean the Boggart that was causing ruckus in the background.”

“I barely had a look, but they are safe there, regardless.” Severus answered, somehow managing to omit the actual question entirely. “Conveniently, I am unable to tell anyone – even the rightful heirs – about Grimmauld—“ Severus voiced his appreciation. Only his tone betrayed that he enjoyed his reception in the place so much, that he probably would wish to murder Moody, hadn’t the man already been dead.

“I’m sorry about the phantom—“ Remus interjected (and as good as confessed), hoping that the meekness of his tone wouldn’t turn Snape’s resentment towards the deceased to the living, for once.

Severus, however, was nowhere near surprised by that declaration. “I expected that must have been your idea.” he said thoughtfully, scratching his jaw. To Remus’ inquiring grunt, Severus explained, “You’d be the one good-natured enough to believe I would feel any remorse upon seeing him.” Knowing Severus, he probably believed that to be a barb.

“Right. Well… it was extremely fucking insensitive, looking back, but of course we couldn’t have known.” Remus glanced to observe Severus’ reaction to the apology and saw only a stone-sculpted countenance with eyes trained on the group sitting on the blanket. “—At the time I wasn’t entirely sure in that, obviously; yet, it was guaranteed to have an impact of some sort, make you start, at the very least. Besides, Alastor was very enthusiastic about the suggestion.”

“Bet he was.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, leaving his head supported by the hand. “Either way, I had Albus to guide me through. Told me how to access it. If you want to find out how **he** knew, feel free to ask—“ he appended, gesturing towards the portrait with his other hand. “I did – and still have no clue.” Severus pouted slightly in a more bitter imitation of Teddy’s grimaces.

“So I’ll be no more successful than you, I’m pretty sure.” Remus said with a dismissive snort, impervious to Albus hearing that. Either way, Dumbledore turned his blue eyes back onto Teddy the very moment Remus’ landed on the picture. This, however, let Remus realise that Teddy had gotten sleepy.

Once Remus had said his goodnights, Frankie disappeared holding Teddy to lie him down to sleep. When she returned, Albus requested to be hung back again in the office. Severus, leaving Frankie to do that, excused himself to the bathroom (although it was more than clear that he was going to Teddy say his own goodnights). Remus, meanwhile, went to put on the water for tea.

Later, they went on to discussing what Severus had found out in the Malfoy Manor from his not quite Christmassy catch-up with the Minister.

It turned out that on the most recent orders of Voldemort, the muggle ministry was about to be infiltrated by means of a few well-placed Imperio curses. This was supposed to usher an era of muggle-servitude to the magical world in Britain, which on the other hand, would be an example for other countries, proving the superiority of the Dark Lord’s reign. Voldemort had (presumably – because Lucius couldn’t have fully revealed that), spent his absentia partly on using said curse on some officials of other nations’ Ministries. This fit perfectly as the answer to why their rebels were struggling so badly in their quest to find an asylum. It also cast a light on the growing dangers for all of them.

Severus had promised that on any occasion he’d always try to drag as much details out of Lucius and others as it was possible, so that then they could provide “Granger and the attendants” with the information. The newest portion of it differed greatly from what they had been sharing with the rioters before – its level of secrecy was incredibly high. Therefore, Severus “would certainly not snake his way out of this one if his Lord had found out”, so they necessitated far better protective measures than ever before.

“You could finally make yourself useful, Lupin, and come up with something – after all, I believe it is you who specialises in defensive spells.” Severus half-jeered, half-complimented Remus. After hearing that, Remus concluded it was high time he had refreshed his knowledge of the obscuring charms, which had kept the Marauder’s Map hidden for so long. Safety was just as important as getting the news out to the rebels.

The plans of taking down (or over) the muggle government sounded highly threatening.

While muggles were definitely underappreciated by Voldemort and most of his underlings, they still had little chance of winning that bout, in Remus’ opinion, at least as long as nothing went incredibly wrong on the wizarding side. A few well-placed Imperiatus curses and inexplicable deaths or spell-induced amnesias and the whole government was as good as dissolved.

Severus shared that opinion fully, if his, “Never have I thought I would say this, but I sincerely hope the muggles turn out to be much better than wizards as a society.” was any proof.

_Oh right, I’ve almost forgotten I’m talking to someone who does actually dislike the muggles, beneath ‘just acting’ like he detests them._

Remus didn’t argue with him – partly because he had no wish to ruin their newly restored peace, and partly because what he was about to say sounded even worse. “And I wouldn’t have either, but I hope they realise somehow—“ _I also hope we’ll both see to that, as much as we’re able to…_ “—and declare open war on V-the Dark Lord, because I see that as the only option for the other Ministries to take action. Even the partly infiltrated ones surely would see the fault in that.”

Despite his hopeful words, Remus was terrified of their prospects. Even if not immortal – Voldemort was amazingly powerful and apt at gathering forces. Besides, if he took over the muggles, then he’d have the entire Britain.

His affliction made Remus receive his pre-Hogwarts education mostly at home. Thankfully, his mother had taught him enough of muggle history for him to know what happened whenever someone mighty and powerful ruled over those isles. would rather not see with his own two eyes (or rather – read in the snake-filled Prophet and hear from Severus), what would happen after one had incorporated magic into that picture.

The more they talked about the current events, the more the last few months began to seem empty – as if it was only yesterday or maybe last week, when anything truly began happening.

From Remus’ conjectures, Severus was only half-joking (and half- seriously blaming himself without reason) when he discerned, “The moment I decide to brief you on it all – there comes an outbreak. Provoked it, didn’t I?”

Remus snickered and noted, with a tinge of contentment, that Severus joined him on that. “I’d really hope the Dark Lord doesn’t look into your mind from a distance for that to be true. Or we’re fucked, I say.”

Severus sniggered again, still quite joyfully as for himself. “Naive of you to assume there exists a scenario in which we are not, Remus. But indeed, so do I. As I do that, by some miracle, the goddamned mud-ggles win that war you’ve wished for.”

With the interruption from an irritated Frankie raging at their lack of interest in the New Years’ Eve dinner, which had since appeared on the table she had set, they kept talking well into the night. While their topics ranged mostly amongst politics with the interwoven (though warily) mentions of ‘the old crowd’, it managed to be a quite pleasant conversation.

Their 1999 started with the oddest of toasts.

“To the Dark Lord’s faith in Himself and to muggle Britain.” Severus almost-chanted, to the clink of his teacup against the goblet of champagne, which had been sent from the kitchens to him, but was then ( _willingly!_ ) given to Remus. “And – well – to Edward having a future, obviously.”

“And in honour of those who won’t have it—“ Remus added before taking a sip, letting his ever-present grief surface for a moment. “And, on a more hopeful note, to us not dying sooner than we are supposed to.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The revelation that Remus had been talking to Albus’ portrait did not surprise Severus too much. That was all the company Lupin had, apart from himself, after all.

He wondered if the man had done that before, because that would change things – by checking his only source of information, he would turn out a lot less naive. Severus did not ask Remus about it – he asked another painting on the wall of his office, one much snider than Albus’.

Phineas Nigellus, whose voice had a certain infuriating quality to it, regardless whether the man was actually aiming to be rude, was often the one who caused Severus to use the quieting spell Albus had left him. On other occasions, like today, he was the sole exception of it (which of course, did not go without his comment).

Richly interspersing his speech with unpleasant remarks, he accounted that Lupin, did, indeed come in twice. Black “may have seemed to be resting, the first time he did so.” Remus, reportedly, also did use security measures, thus sparing Severus having to modify memories of portraits. Severus did, however, make a mental note to share Albus’ spell with the man upon the first occasion.

He thanked Black for the information and spelled him silent, causing him to splutter angrily (which Severus could only see, not hear), before he fell into the charm-induced sleep.

Despite numerous impertinences of this kind, Phineas seemed to respect and even like him, as a fellow Slytherin. He was perhaps the most helpful to him of the portraits in the office, except for Dumbledore. This might have had something to do with the third evening after the Battle of Hogwarts, when the others’ opinion of Severus was permanently tainted...

Back then, having packed up all the things he knew he couldn’t afford to leave at Hogwarts for his absence (at the time not even sure his Lord would let him maintain his post), Severus halted before Albus’ portrait.

The Headmaster had not spoken a word to him since Severus informed him (and solely him) about the outcome of the Battle. Ever since then, Albus seemed downcast and defeated.

Severus had been rather busy in that time, running solely on energy potions, which, at this point, on top of a slight nausea, had presented him with an accessory headache. Now, faced with the prospect of leaving the quarters, he needed the consultation and so desperately, that he didn’t even bother with the spells.

 _They can all listen – they can all tell whomever. My successor, my Lord – why would I care, if ‘the only hope’ has fucking gotten himself killed and left us all to the dystopia?!_ – he raged.

He did care, because he had one barely-alive Order member hidden in his house, but at that particular moment, this thought got overshadowed by his sorrow, by the simmering mix of hopelessness, guiltiness and frustration filling his veins.

“Dumbledore, talk to me—“ he demanded, for at least the third time during those few days. And, as on all the other occasions, Albus didn’t open his eyes.

This time, Severus did not give up on the first try, however. “Albus—you have to talk to me.”

Still nothing but the deep, steady breaths, making Severus wonder whether the magical essence of Albus, embedded in the portrait, had left this world together with ‘his Potter’.

“Albus – please.” he changed his tone, now very conscious of the other portraits hearing his words, but again deciding not to stop to cast the spell. “It is not yet certain whether I am ever returning. It might be Dolores who takes over and if so...” he left the sentence hanging.

Severus had no wish of continuing his mission as an agent behind the enemy lines, mostly reduced to following commands. At the same time, he had no other option, no other vision for himself (at least since he had abandoned the one of a grave). Besides, he had already chosen – _very senselessly, again._ He had chosen the werewolf over his own peace, whether the fallacious or eternal one.

Therefore, he had to live, there was no backing down from that now. But for that he needed one simple thing, for which he had come here, **to** **know** – what to expect and what to do.

The fact that he had to rely on the delusive remains of Dumbledore for that was unedifying. Severus was aware of that – it enraged him, but he wasn’t quite able to help it. He should have thought of a scenario like this those almost-twenty years ago, before he agreed to serve his due, because, as it turned out, the purgatory was not ending anytime soon and he did not even have the master overseeing his penance anymore.

He was a puppet left behind by the puppeteer. Now, he was pleading for the guidance of the puppeteer’s copy with such a pathetic desperation and the man, _the damned old man,_ did not so much as twitch. Fury flooded him before he could even think to tame it.

“You **have to** tell me all you know! Now!” he snarled. “If you even do know anything – if it hadn’t all been an act, that you knew – or if you had not taken that to the grave, so sure I – we – what is left of ‘the old crowd’ somewhere out there – will never need it.” He let all of his accumulated bile seep into the words, lacing them with venom.

Albus finally opened his eyes, but didn’t speak. The peaceful blue was staring through, more than at, him and Severus was only riled up more by that fact.

“I do not understand, frankly – have you, now, given up, you damned old fool, or is it that you haven’t even fathomed that the war could not go your way?!”

For a while, they stared at each other. The real Headmaster, red in the face with anger and with his hand pointlessly curled around a wand and the portrayed one – measuring him calmly, sadly, with his, on the picture - uninjured, right hand running through the long, white strands of his beard.

Then, finally, Albus broke the silence, in a way that made Severus regret ever wishing for him to do so. “I am sorry, Severus.” Dumbledore said, with his eyes locked in his. His deep, low voice shook minutely as he spoke. “I apologise for not having been able to force myself to talk with you before and I am sorry, deeply sorry, for all the mistakes I had made that led to this.”

Frankly, he’d rather the man shouted at him for calling him a fool.

But Albus, apparently, hadn’t programmed his portrait to be rightfully mad at such impertinences; correctly, perhaps. The real Dumbledore, Severus was afraid, would have been just as despondent now, just as remorseful.

“—Sadly, you are right that I am a fool—“ Albus continued, “—or was – either way – I apologise.” he repeated, then broke off.

Severus had already decided never to follow an object’s advice word-for-word again, aware how that turned out this time. However, he had been left with absolutely no clues, and, as dubious as it sometimes was, Dumbledore’s guidance had always been important to him. He entertained a hope that he would not be completely deprived of it now, when he had ‘finished his mission’ (as much as said mission floundered). He blamed Dumbledore for his own surviving, so, obviously, he expected him to have plans for him. If Albus did, however, he was not very eager to reveal them.

Now, once again faced with the silence, interrupted only by the susurrus of the other portraits, Severus prompted again. “You have omitted half of my request Albus.” His voice was quiet, but churning with badly disguised rancour. “Share your knowledge of the matter with me, and all at once, not as orders with throwaway snippets of it. Or do me the favour and admit to not knowing, at the very fucking least.”

Dumbledore still wasn’t responding. Instead, Dippet decided to throw in a comment of his. “What kind of language is that, towards a predecessor? You were a former student of his...” he murmured with outrage.

“And a current murderer.” Severus amended, having momentarily forgotten himself.

The choir of shocked gasps, with two soloists – an amused chuckle coming directly from in front of him and a raspy snigger from his side, reminded him acutely that this had not been popular knowledge around here.

Black, who was the source of the latter of the laughs, knew, probably from Grimmauld or Potter and friends. Now that Severus darted a look at him, he saw him smiling crookedly, but almost with appreciation. Apparently, Phineas found it completely reasonable for a Hogwarts’ headmaster to have won his power in such a way.

The other laugh, shockingly, was Albus, who had suffered a rapid change of mood from mournful and guilty, to mildly amused.

The rest, however, had never since treated Severus as they had in the first year. Not that they were particularly pleasant then, considering his House and how he hadn’t exactly fed their interest in Dumbledore’s fate. Now that he did, however, they seemed far from pleased.

“Anyone else has anything to add?” Severus asked, using the held-breath quietness that had fallen and looking around with annoyed imperiousness. The portraits were either staring at him wide-eyed or intentionally avoiding doing that. “No? Thank you.” he acknowledged, turning to Dumbledore’s one again, “Albus?”

The painted headmaster sighed. “I suppose. I am not confident to what extent I will be able to help, however. Concurrently, I am mindful that I will not win reduced to a painting.”

_Realised it, did you? Took you long enough, Albus, took you long enough._

The implication that Severus would perhaps be able to do so, as a living person, didn’t miss him – in fact, it hit painfully, since he wasn’t willing to play that role. He had a responsibility now – for about a month, at the very least, and meanwhile, as He had declared, his Lord would make his disappearance either way. Therefore, just as he had demanded – Severus wanted knowledge, not weapons.

Having gotten the promise of information, he took the portrait with him to the conterminous chamber, hung it on the wall and listened to the hints from a painting, to later think them over on his own.

Once again he got shreds of information rather than the full tapestry of it. However, this time the pieces were clearer and better woven than before. He could, even if in the future and with a bit of effort, put them together to create some sort of a picture. It was reassuring that Albus hadn’t completely ignored the option of losing, although still – his clarifications and alleviations failed to instil any hope in Severus.

Since then, he had once again resumed his post and the portrait of Albus remained an important part of the office – one he valiantly fought to keep, after all. Severus valued its presence, even if the main conclusion of their talks was always “to limit the damage for now and aim for the greater good”, which was more Grindewald-ish than it was convincing.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

January was a busy month at 10 Downing Street – this was generally a busy term so far, to be precise.

When the current Prime Minister was assuming the post, in no way did he expect the troubles his predecessor had had to pass on to him. In fact, for a short while after the election, they died down. He celebrated that as proof that he was much more competent than his rival had been.

However, his joy was illusive and fleeting.

About a month after the elections, the issues returned and in a tsunami wave greater than ever before. Actually, he probably would have preferred to deal with an actual tsunami, if given the choice.

Odd things had been happening in the country ever since June came.

Firstly – the wolves began dying out.

That, of course, would be a problem in itself, but the main complication there was that there had been no wolves in the Kingdom to begin with. Nevertheless, there were cadavers being found here and there, which indubitably belonged to creatures no other than wolves. That suspicious carcass print was especially abundant about once every month. To the shock of the emergency services, scientists and ecologists alike, the inexistent British wolf population was vanishing. Seemingly, mainly from natural causes – the wolves’ bodies rarely bore any marks or injuries, thus further flustering the already dumbfounded veterinarians called to the scenes. The animals’ corpses were apparently just sprouting right from the ground, mostly in living areas around forests (or even – small scrubs). Worst of all, nobody could give an answer as to **where in the hell** were they coming from.

Meanwhile, as if for the sake of some horrible equilibrium, numerous people were going missing. The police received notices of more and more cases, reported by perceptive, though clearly not too concerned neighbours. Worryingly often the missing persons reports read, “We haven’t seen any of their family for four months.”

A few small villages, particularly in the West Country, which had never been much trouble until now, were experiencing an unprecedented wave of brutality. There were attacks on property and even on people, who would then be admitted into hospitals with unexplained injuries. The services were throwing up their hands as to who was responsible for that, since the victims themselves usually did not remember much.

Amnesia was a very popular condition amongst all the people aggrieved in inexplicable ways.

Around the start of the school year, once again as if for cosmic balance against the disappearances, people began appearing all over the country. They were mainly young children or teens, all stranded, some with no recollections of their past whatsoever. Others, remembering families which had all gone missing or died on the course of last year. Another, thankfully, the smallest group – with recollections which could interest psychiatrists much more than police officers.

This was only another mental-related cloud affecting the nation, because a pandemic of mental illness coursed through the country even still. The Secretary of Health had been advising the Prime Minister not to call it a ‘pandemic’, but it was hard to find a better fitting word. It was spreading, fast and barely explicably, almost as if it was indeed caused by some kind of undetectable microbes. When the Secretary finally succeeded in his endeavour of bringing the Prime Minister’s attention to the problem, it turned out that apart from providing better care to the ill, little could be done.

The pandemic was terrifying in just how omnipresent it had become in no time – from the schizophrenics talking about having seen magic lights, to depression which had become a very popular affliction, notably, amongst the forgetful kids.

The Prime Minister and his cabinet were doing an amazing job at hiding all that from the general public.

The wolves, for example – who cared about those, if they had not been there in the first place? Other matters were being solved in a similar way, for the sake of great publicity – swept under the carpet and downplayed. The main thing was preventing journalists to look into all this closely enough to find the connection. Maybe at first glance the events seemed random, but the Prime Minister had a burning gut feeling that there was one.

It felt almost as if some kind of a curse had been placed upon the country, sort of like the Plagues of Egypt. Only, in this case, the Pharaoh had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to agree to in order to make it all stop.

As his term progressed, so much bizarre and disconcerting information fell upon him, that at this point he was almost considering resigning.

Yesterday morning, when the Prime Minister was pondering over all that with a teacup in his hand, a terrifying thing happened – one of the portraits on his wall spoke.

His tea spilled all over the documents spread on the desktop. Meanwhile, the froglike man, whose old, dirty depiction hung in the corner, announced to him the nigh visit of some Lord from ‘the wizarding world’. He also instructed the Prime Minister to meet that Lord with honours the following day.

At first, the Prime Minister completely ignored that announcement. It must have been a figment of his imagination, produced by his overheating brain, he reasoned. Then, however, he remembered something. Was the picture of the purple-clad man not exactly the one the charlady had declared ‘unmovable’ on the day he took over the office?

She said something – yes, he was quite sure she did – about his predecessor trying to get rid of it and failing to.

Something clicked in his brain and there he was, requesting a prompt appointment with his political opponent to talk about – well, wall decor, apparently. His predecessor tried to refuse at first, giving the excuse of a tight schedule (as if it could have been any tighter than the Prime Minister’s!) but then relented, clearly intrigued by the topic he wanted to talk about, which, of course, hadn’t been disclosed to him through the telephone.

Today, therefore, the Prime Minister talked privately to a man, who had probably spent the last few months wishing for him to trip. Yet, there was nobody else he could consult on this.

He was still on the fence about giving up his post, but close enough to it to act reckless. In that conversation, he mentioned multiple things which could be used against him – if not to land him in a mental ward, then at leas, to blow him out of the water for good. He even admitted to having heard the portrait speak, presenting that, of course, as a security concern. After all, it simply meant there was some kind of a device planted into the wall and used for foolish pranks.

What was his shock when, after breaking the mutual distrust with the help of drinks, the former Prime Minister gave up on the pretences and admitted to having had the same problem with the picture.

His puzzlement grew even more, when he heard about the man in a green bowler hat, who his predecessor had known as ‘Minister for Magic, Fudge’, then about the “war of wizards, speaking like a madman to another.” Finally, he was treated to the information about the various names of the Lord, who had been mentioned to him by the toady depiction. Apparently, he was a well-known figure in the so-called ‘magical world’ and Fudge, in the very midst of war, had informed the previous PM about him. He was characterised by powerfulness and racist disregard for non-magical people. He must have taken over the magical government, whose existence the Prime Minister still doubted.

A hostile magical ruler of a community evidently living in hiding somewhere in Britain – all this sounded simply preposterous.

It was the oddest meeting the Prime Minister had ever had in his life, not to say – as a politician.

The option that both of the PMs were simply equally loony, driven mad by the burden of their responsibility, was not out of the question. After all – it was ‘magic’ and ‘spells’, and ‘a moving and speaking picture’ (which definitely was a painted one, oil on canvas, and not a hologram or an electric device), they had been talking about. However, even though a part of him was counting on this to turn against him, the Prime Minister felt comfort from knowing that that his hallucination was a shared one. He had the other man’s word to keep their subject a secret (though he didn’t quite trust it).

On his side, he did not tell anybody else either. Considering that ‘the situation’ involved ‘wizards’ and some kind of an ‘evil overlord’, sounding very much like a story from a children’s book, he didn’t have many options. How would it look, after all, if the Prime Minister for example sought the advice of the Secretary of Defence about approaching this? Like he was a lunatic, of course.

Now he was awaiting the preannounced visit, still confused as to what to expect. Two guards, armed to teeth under their suits, were keeping him company in the office. He had not explained ‘the situation’ to them either, relaying on their training alone. Hopefully, no matter how surrealistic the danger would be, if it was imminent – they would defend him.

He was pacing around, keeping a close watch on the toad-like man. The prearranged time had approached and passed, uneventful. Finally, 13 minutes after four o’clock, the portrait spoke again. “Soon.” it said, ominously. After giving a feeble cough, it fell silent again.

And indeed, soon, because in less than a minute, in the peace undisturbed but for the breathing of his guards, the Prime Minister felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

He turned on his heel and, where he was expecting for someone to stand, saw only an empty space. Then he shivered, because the temperature in the room had dropped abruptly.

The winter was very harsh this year (as if the National Health system had not been strained enough already), so the coldness itself was justifiable. However, even a failure of central heating could not explain how a wave of freezing air suddenly filled the room. It was not just that; with the frost a certain feeling – of complete hopelessness, came over the Prime Minister. It was as if happiness had never existed in the world.

All that let him know something was wrong. It resembled horror movies a tad – in how the atmosphere of boding had infested the room and his mind alike. Sadly, just like a character soon-to-be attacked by a spectrum, he had no idea what was he being warned of.

His bodyguards had noticed it too – they exchanged a glance while reaching for the handles of their weapons. Then, with a gleam of red light coming out of the thin air, they both fell to the floor, to the absolute horror of the Prime Minister.

His bewilderment only grew, because next, once again – out of nothingness – a tall, black-hooded figure appeared right in front of him.

It lowered its hood, revealing a face, one straight from the land of nightmares and 70s science-fiction movies. Its features were definitely human-like, but at the same time – it certainly couldn’t be a man. The paleness of its skin was impossible, almost surpassing the whiteness of the walls. Its skull, seemingly elongated due to the lack of hair and brows, looked almost polished in the, now flickering, electric light. Instead of a nose, it had a gaping hole in the middle of its face, nostril-like, yet absolutely unnatural. The combination of those features brought the depictions of aliens from old movies to the Prime Minister’s mind.

The intruder’s red, though not bloodshot – just ‘naturally’ scarlet – eyes with lines for pupils, like in a cat’s, or even thinner than that, pierced through him. The humanoid alien waved his? hand imperiously at the two bodies behind the Prime Minister.

“Is that what you, mud, call ‘a honourable greeting’?” the alien asked fleeringly, in a high-pitched voice that sounded like something between a hiss and chalk scraping against a board. “You thought others could screen you from the Dark Lord, you pathetic mudblood?”

The Prime Minister wasn’t exactly used to being offended in his own office, but he was now so frozen with fear, that he simply blinked at the man (the wizard? the lord?), mutely, begging God to let him wake up from this ludicrous nightmare. He barely realised that he couldn’t move anymore, quite literally glued to the floor.

Meanwhile, the alien continued; he spoke for a while, his voice as cold as the air in the office now was. He mentioned plans to enslave ‘the mud’, which, from the context, seemed to mean all the people in Britain. But the Prime Minister barely registered what he was saying, too preoccupied with whether his guards were alive to even think about his demands.

The ‘Dark Lord’, however, once he had satisfied his need for a listener, didn’t even wait for any response. Instead, he lifted his long-fingered hand swiftly, like a duellist in a sword or rapier battle, and pointed a dark stick at the Prime Minister.

Then, as if by magic, the Prime Minister stopped sensing the sadness hovering in the air.

All of his fear dissipated as well and he was overcome with calm and cheer, in a way he hadn’t been able to experience for the longest of times. This overwhelmingly pleasant dimness was a little out of place, bearing in mind all of the maladies he’d been dealing with lately. However, it certainly felt pleasant and enticing. Just as enticing as it now was to listen to the red-eyed alien’s commands, which he could hear hissed out somewhere inside his own skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Self indulgent author's note:** I am currently writing chapters in which the dynamic between Severus and Remus has already changed (in the obvious direction) and I must say that it feels very odd reading (while editing) the ones where they are still acting so dumb. And yes, I know I wrote them, but truly -- I take no responsibility for their stupidity. 


	15. The Werewolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger/content warning:** violence and mentions of cannibalism.  
>  I think I have a pattern of serving the harsh things first, so here you go - another French sandwich: pain-confiture-pain (or maybe without the last pain, actually), watch out for your teeth! 

The snow was still falling, though sparsely, illuminated silver in the gleam of the Full Moon. It was the last day of plenilune, as Severus knew too well. They were wading through the fresh drifts, coming apart in powdery waves before the flourishes of wands and melting under the enchanted boots of the Carrows.

Although officially the one in command was Selwyn, his Lord had previously requested Snape be with them. Severus didn’t wonder back then whether He realised what he’d dragged out of Claude’s head and kept a secret, but he was analysing it now. It gave his mind an avenue of escape from more disturbing thoughts.

He, his own, laid-back inactivity was what had led to another attack in Hogsmeade. The third one – fifth if those from the vacations were counted.

The third **death**.

Claude’s boy had retained his humanity for long and only now, in the dead of winter, when there was absolutely nothing to hunt down inside the Forest, did he break his moral code. Having positioned himself close to the barrier before moonrise, he ventured outside as a wolf. A hungry wolf.

The villager who tipped them off – the florist’s son – had hit the wolf with a hex through the window. The werewolf’s form gave _the boy_ a certain resistance to magic. That allowed him to shake off the body-bind curse and flee, long before the Hogwarts’ patrol received word on it. He scuttled away, hauling his prey after himself.

Now, six Death Eaters were marching at a steady pace, following the trace of the werewolf – easily discernible between the snowdrifts as a furrow speckled with blood.

This was supposed to be ‘just an execution’, but for safety measures it was better not to overestimate the beasts. They were nearing the border of the Forest already and Selwyn cast a Revelio, first in the variation for creatures, then for humans (just in case). To no effect. The werewolf must have already crossed the barrier.

Partially undoing the enchantments, the Eaters did the same.

Claiming out-loud that he sensed a hole in the barrier, Severus stayed behind. He did not have to look for it, however, since it was the entryway he had known about before. It was high time he had made the decision to mend it. Too late, actually.

Indeed, the gap in the barrier was easily tangible if one focused on the flow of magic around the wards. _Pity_ , that there had been no, say, Rookwood or Mulciber around the school to ferret that out earlier. Luckily, one of them was dead, while the other was unlikely to appear anywhere near Severus, at least not while the latter was in good graces of their Lord and thus probably able to hurt him with impunity.

Once he had finished, Severus straightened up again to follow the others. He noticed that Flint had been waiting for him. They went through the barrier without a word, wand-in-wand; then rushed to catch up to the others.

Marcus, his former student and a fairly new addition to the Eaters, had joined when Draco was last supposed to – last year, soon before the Battle. Selwyn had brought him along here tonight for “educational purposes” as he had joked.

Snape hid his true emotions on the matter proficiently. People like Flint, Montague or Carter now were his pride. At the same time, he knew how badly his efforts as a Head of House had floundered. His former pupils’ enthusiasm towards the concept of murder of the ‘less-worthy’ was proving that. Marcus’ presence here was causing Severus tweaks of heavy conscience, but he kicked the guilt into the designated cell in his mind almost effortlessly.

It was mostly Lupin’s fury speaking back then and, either way, Severus abode by how _he had no right to say it, since he ~~used to be~~ is no better. _Still, Remus was correct about the detrimental effects of his passiveness.

There were his students, who he had let his (head)master vilify for years and supported only in his limited ability as a teacher and Head of House. Then, there was also the death from the current Full Moon. He had sacrificed one life for those of the two werewolves, who were doomed to a demise either way. Even the danger of the two previous attacks failed to spur him to act. All that, because intervening earlier would make the entire blame fall upon him.

It was a miracle this cost just one life.

Lupin himself was a huge aspect of his passiveness as well. Severus did not want to **choose** to kill the beasts, because on some level it contradicted what he was doing for ‘his werewolf’. Perhaps it even wiped it out.

A wheezy woman’s shriek – _Alecto’s_ – pulled him out of the reverie abruptly. He didn’t even have time to feel scared.

Severus’ wand-hand pointed at the source of her fear before a single conscious thought flicked through his head. Exactly on time. From behind the dome of light of Selwyn’s Lumos Maxima in the front, a dark grey shape lunged at Severus and his former student, growling dangerously.

“Remolio!” Flint bellowed, with such might that one could surmise it was the yell that was meant to weaken the creature, not the spell itself.

The hex hit the wolf, but did nothing to stop it. The streak of green light coming from Severus’ wand met with it halfway through its leap.

“Don’t shout, boy.” Severus castigated in a whisper, when the _creature? or was this the kid?_ fell to the ground. “And hurry—“ he added, himself heading towards the rest. Now that the colourful blazes were coming from behind the trees, time was lives, not just galleons.

Marcus sent him a rather dirty look upon those words, but Severus pretended not to have seen it. If the boy wanted to get himself killed by betraying his exact location to the wolves (blinded by the brightness of spells, but certainly not deaf), then who was he to stop him. Severus had had enough experience with transformed werewolves ( _one of them, to be specific)_ to trust in his own reflexes. He wasn’t positive the same could be said about the self-assured young man.

Before them, in front of the cave’s maw, the other four Eaters were still engaged in a brawl with the creatures. A terrible, piercing sound – an animalistic, savage howl of pain – tore through the night and trembled in the air around them.

Marcus flinched. Severus tightened the grip on his wand. _The form-forcing curse_ – he deduced, only parenthetically wondering who cast it.

Another wolf swerved towards the newcomers. Its snow-like fur couldn’t hide it from Severus’ keen eyes and he instantly targeted it with a weakening hex. The wolf’s coat reflected the brilliant beam of green as, this time a murmured, not nonverbal (Flint’s) killing curse knocked it down.

The shouts and blasts of spells died down quickly, as did the shrill wail. Judging by the flurry, the others had already dealt with the attack. Now they were scrambling up and gathering themselves together. The brilliance from Selwyn’s wand hadn’t returned yet. Therefore, it was Severus who stepped into the field of the fray to look around with his wand high up. He lit the small clearing thoroughly, along with some of the cave’s tunnel. The Carrows, meanwhile, took it upon themselves to cast the revealing charm.

Graphite, brown and silvery bodies of animals covered the duvet of snow. Only one of the wolves’ snouts glistened with wet crimson, just like its bronze fur.

 _That’s Claude’s ‘son’ then._ – Severus guessed, knowing it must have been him who attacked the human by the florist’s before. He attacked human **s** in plural tonight, if the crouched, panting Silvius was any evidence. He had his back against the stone wall, craving support. In either retaliation or self-defence, he must have been the one, who cast the torturous curse on the werewolf before.

_Oh wouldn’t that be a pity if you had been bitten, Silvius... Wouldn’t it be a tragedy for that pure blood of yours..._

Severus watched him for a moment. The man, although evidently either overexerted or hurt, wasn’t transforming, despite the Moon’s curious peering over the branches and treetops. Therefore, Snape returned to his examination of the scene.

Claude’s boy died in his wolf form, though he must have rapidly went through the transformation a few times for that to occur.

The wolf – _~~the kid~~ _– lay on the ground limply, with its front paws bent and partly tucked underneath it, as if it was a dog asleep; only he didn’t look serene, but racked. His open, maroon eyes were forever frozen with a mixture of wild, monstrous hunger and terror in them, preserved like flies sunken in amber.

 _Human. This was a human._ – Severus had to remind himself. It was not in his custom to properly send off the dead, but he made an attempt at it, in secret. _And so the four are united. The whole **pack** – or family – of them._

He couldn’t dwell upon ‘the beast’ for too long without attracting attention to himself. Besides, now another body arrested his attention – the werewolf’s victim.

A human corpse was sprawled on the rise, between two spruces heavily weighted with snow. The cadaver bore markings of having been dragged. An imprint of an impressive set of teeth dug through the skin of its shoulder. Though it was hard to tell through all the mutilations, the body was probably a woman’s – the florist’s son had witnessed a high-pitched scream.

The woman’s torso was horribly mangled, but the worst element was her thigh – the bone had been stripped bare, with only thin red scraps left at its base. The werewolf had begun feeding upon the calf as well, though soon the curses forced him to abort his feast.

Still on his guard for a possible strike from within the woods, Severus finally approached his hunkered comrade. The Carrows were on a patrol further into the Forest, as he had ordered them to, sending beams of revealing spells deeper and deeper away. They had to have it completely cleared before Severus would even consider lifting the barrier.

The space was clear of all the Eaters but for Snape, _the resident-nurse_ of the group _apparently_.

Selwyn had raised his gaze at him in an expectant, almost pleading way, which rather contrasted with his typical expression. “Do you have any silver on you?” he croaked, lifting his hands from the wounds in an embarrassed gesture.

Severus surveyed his gashes silently for a while. One was on his cheek, the other had torn through his _joke of a_ reinforced coat on the waist. They were fairly shallow and treatable – just deep scratches from the werewolf’s claws. Nothing that threatened to infect him. Silvius, however, didn’t give the impression of having understood that. The fear of contracting the disease must have been what made his muscular jaw quiver as he observed Severus now.

Finally, Snape straightened again. “Who do you take me for, Selwyn, an unprepared fool?” he wondered, getting out a bottle with the mixture of dittany and silver and handing it to the man. In a much lower voice, he added, “There is essentially no chance of any infection from something of this sort.”

Fortunately, the man had the decency not to thank him. He simply snatched the vial from his grip with a greedy spark in his eyes and started to apply the potion.

Flint, who had meanwhile entered the cave along with Macnair, now emerged back into the heaps of snow at its entrance with utmost disgust twisting his face. “There were others.” he declared to the pair of them, when they craned their necks to the right to better see him. “All had been dead already.”

It was written all over Marcus’ young face, florid from the cold, that it was bones they had found, possibly human ones. There have not been any missing-persons in the village, from what Severus was aware of. _Then it must have been ‘their own kind’_.

Walden surfaced from the darkness just after Flint and with a similar grimace. “Three skeletons there. Headmaster; Selwyn. Close to the firebed. Ate themselves, the monsters.” he completed the younger man’s report in a tone that expressed both amusement and revulsion. “Less work left for us.”

Severus realised that he too felt abhorred by this information. Simultaneously, he noted the ridiculousness of that. _Each of us has a kill-count. In humans, mainly. And yet, although murder for necessity – or by accident, that we cannot be sure of – is more justifiable than ours, we shrink from it like a dove-eyed student from demonstrations of curses..._ He suppressed the laugh, but it still rang with metallic cynicism underneath his skull.

\---

The vision of a werewolf – only in his imagination it had caramel, not russet, eyes – kept pouncing at him, pulling Severus out of the state of drowsiness with a start and causing him to constantly change his position.

It was all perturbing enough, that Severus even came to the bold conclusion that Remus’ presence in the room could have made him calmer. Although not in Lupin’s current state, of course, and well… perhaps that was a little too optimistic of a hope.

Nevertheless, as it was, Remus was safely locked in the Transformation room (he had checked that twice). Still, Severus’ mind seemed to be petrified by his wolf-form tonight, much more than it had been lately.

He could shut down his emotions all he wanted. The, outwardly imperceptible, muscle twitches kept interrupting him either way. Once again, his knowledge in Occlumency and muggle psychology could shake hands on being completely useless in solving his troubles. Sleeping Draughts, unfortunately, had been out of the question ever since his slight overindulgence in them shortly after the first war. Alternatively, in Poppy’s words, “Irresponsible, inexcusable overuse! Which led to lamentable, but predictable dependence… You’ll be lucky, Severus, if you’re not addicted to them for life now!”

Due to that, whenever he had a problem similar to his tonight’s one, which, thankfully, didn’t happen too often, he was sentenced to suffering through it. Or – to devising other methods of resolving it.

Severus wasn’t even surprised to see the sunlight seeping through the curtains after what simultaneously felt like five minutes and an eternity of half-aware rest in the empty bed. He thought he had managed to steal an hour or two of unrestful slumber, but it felt like even less than that when he got up.

During the whole day after the Moon, he and Lupin managed not to run into each other or converse at all. Severus wasn’t avoiding him on purpose, but he deemed that a blessing. He would rather avoid looking Remus in the face right now, for various reasons.

He hadn’t told him about last night’s events and was not planning to.

Not about the kid – locked between the forms until he died out of exhaustion, howling in extreme pain. Not about the three actual wolves weakened by Carrows’ hexes and then ‘cleanly killed’ probably by Walden, much more **cleanly** than human-werewolves would have been. Not about the three other, human, corpses Flint and Macnair discovered. And certainly not about the two wolves Severus participated in defeating. The easiness with which he cast the killing curse on a shape, which reminded him of the only werewolf that had ever attacked him before, was unsettling to say the least. 

Severus passed up on the opportunity of seeing Remus terrified and outraged by the news or perhaps even worse – crestfallen and defeated. He felt bad enough with all this on his own.

The two stowaway passengers of his mind – guilt and fear – were lounging delightedly on those new memories. Every now and then, they also dragged the ones of the Shack out of the deepest dungeons of his mind to keep them company.

Severus wished that, apart from shutting down emotions, he could shut down thoughts completely. However, something was telling him that not even the Dark Lord had that ability. _But He, at least, is unable to agonise over it; or over anything, essentially._

By the time Severus had returned to the Chambers, rather later than he normally would have, Lupin was already dozing – as usual at this hour when drained by the transformation. Frankie had put Teddy to sleep “a little second ago, Master” and the bedroom was filled with steady breathing.

Severus tarried as he could, choosing to take a shower now, instead of in the morning. As much as he valued his sleep ( _Do I really?_ _When I lead a life that would be tiring for a much younger man and this is always the first thing I carve time off of?_ ), he wasn’t sure anymore that his hypothesis from yesterday fell anywhere near the truth.

He spent the last week fighting off ideas of contexts in which he did not feel comfortable placing Remus in, not even in the privacy of his own mind. As if that wasn’t enough, now he had the sprinkle of horror to top it all with.

If only he could prepone Teddy’s birthday… It marked the date after which, according to Frankie, it would be safe for the kid to sleep without a guardian able to cast healing spells against infant deaths by the so-called Banshee’s Breath. Thus, after it passed, he and Lupin would finally be free of the burden of each other’s presence in the bed. Now it would certainly be convenient for that date to have come already.

Having said his belated goodnights to Teddy, Severus sat down on the edge of the bed on his side and glanced over at the sleeping werewolf. With his back turned to the window and a hand tucked underneath his cheek, letting the thin beam of moonlight dance on his curls, Remus looked like serenity incarnated.

Nonetheless, Severus was afraid of him.

He was not a coward; certainly not about something so meagre, so he lied down. However, he could not persuade himself to turn his back to the werewolf, as he did most of the time. That pose would bare his nape to him. Although it was in no way logical to believe that would endanger him, Severus preferred not to expose himself in such a manner. 

The distance between them was currently as vast as it had been back at the start, maybe even greater than that. It was akin to the one the bed had adjusted to when Remus had a nightmare involving him. Appropriately so, because this time, Severus suspected he would have one – about the werewolf.

Every now and then, he dared an ascertaining look at the grey silhouette in front of him, until finally his eyelids became heavier. Since then, he kept his eyes as closed as his mind. Surprisingly, it hadn’t taken slumber long to enwrap him.

His assumptions, however, were right and Severus woke up shortly, panting.

Nightmares were an old friend of his, especially the ones that **felt** so very authentic. A long time ago, he learned to reinstate himself in the real world quickly. Now he did exactly that –internally repeating what was and wasn’t true and locking the emotions up in the cages they belonged to.

In his dream, a werewolf with amber eyes had just torn his throat.

It must have been Lupin, because even the colour of his fur differed from the ones from yesterday.

The scar on Severus’ neck was pulsating, but he didn’t have a motion to spare for that right now. His breathing steadied almost instantly. He trusted that the phantom pain in the imagined bite (and the real wound) would subside soon too. However, it took more than that to fool his mind. He had gotten rid of the fear, but not of the uneasiness, nor of that biting, writhing conviction inside him, which he had failed to eradicate yet – that Lupin was not a human.

He tried to fall asleep again, but his brain was pushing onto him the same imagery it did yesterday.

Severus wanted, really wanted, to finally get some sleep tonight.

There was the option of getting up and going to the transformation room, of course. Lupin had never changed the password, though he only told him about that not too long ago, in November. When he mentioned it, Severus automatically asked for his reasoning behind that. Remus explained that if he ever did not emerge out of there on his own during the day at all, that could mean something had gone wrong.

Severus immediately chid him on it, affronted, since that could imply the Wolfsbane had killed him. To his puzzlement, instead of a twinkle of amusement, he saw fog obscure the caramel eyes before Remus answered.

“No, it’s not that.” he said, solemnly and with a certain weight carried in the throaty syllables. “Those things happen sometimes. Rarely, but they do – that the heart fails to survive the strain of a single transformation. Wolfsbane lessens it a tad of course, but it adds other risks... And I’m what classifies as a middle-aged werewolf, so you know...”

_Well, that would be a laugh, fate, wouldn’t it? If I had saved the werewolf only for the werewolf to die on me..._

The werewolf was still alive and well (as well as possible, at least), so the password he possessed hadn’t come in handy yet. It could now, but Severus was convinced that trying to sleep in the room, he knew Remus to transform in, would not actually **keep** the nightmares **out**.

Besides, he was tired and drowsy already, so abandoning the warmness of his duvet did not exactly present itself as a tempting prospect.

Rejecting that concept as daft and useless, Severus closed his eyes forcefully again. He opened them what felt like a split-second later, when an awfully substantial, fully-fanged snout snapped at him, straight from the heap of pillows under Remus’ head.

Severus could barely distinguish the shapes in the darkness, since a flash of light – imaginary, amplified moonlight – preceded his waking up. It had been better at blinding him than its virtual counterpart could ever prove to be. It took him a moment to realise that this had not been a part of the dream.

His wand-hand, though he was convinced he had been lying on it, once again acted of its own accord and a cold gleam had burst out of its tip. Luckily, it was the conscious thought of ‘ _I need to see him – I need to see that it is a him, not an it’_ and not any fear-ridden one from before that caused the spell.

 _I should put the goddamned stick away, unless I want to see emerald beams the next time I wake up_ – Severus reasoned.

The charm had served its purpose, however. It illuminated Remus’ very human, seamed face better than the light sneaking inside through the slit in the curtains. Severus now found himself closer to Lupin than he was at first. The bed must have read his current intention to look at him.

He had not woken Lupin up. The man continued to breathe steadily, while the gleam of Lumos encompassed his skin. Rather indecorously, it displayed both the ashy hue of it and the distinct, dark shadows underneath his eyes, further highlighted by the black bedding. The faint speckles of brown sprinkled all over his skin were fighting a losing battle against all the greyness and pink of scars. His fawn locks, so heavily interspersed with silver, were pretty tousled and so was his beard. Presumably, he hadn’t mustered the energy to take care of them during the day. His eyes were closed tight shut, hiding the glistening, threatening amber from Severus’ sight. Remus’ lips were curved downwards, but not in a grimace – in a peaceful, though weighted, line.

He looked calm and fragile, if anything, not dangerous.

And yet, the very moment Severus cast Nox, the vision of the werewolf lunging at him came back. The fact that it – without the surroundings – was a memory, rather than merely a figment of his imagination, was making things even worse. It would mean that a basic Sleeping Draught would have been ineffective in helping him, but this type of medicine was outside his reach either way.

Perhaps wine could help? Or Firewhiskey? Both worked wonders in the matter of Albus’ death, in their due time, but he wasn’t bound by his word to quit back then. Besides, he had not drunk himself to sleep for long enough for it to come as unexpected for his organism and he wasn’t sure he had enough of the Sobering Draught left.

Hopeless. His case, as usual, was simply hopeless.

Then, an immensely idiotic idea swirled through Severus’ mind – he could ensure the werewolf was a human even in the darkness, by means of touching him.

That, of course, would require him to want the bed to keep them nearer, but it already had tonight, so clearly – Remus didn’t mind. _However, it would be absolutely, completely foolish. And an invasion of his privacy, and..._

But Severus wanted to sleep. Desperately.

Tomorrow, the holiday break at Hogwarts ended, thus he would have all of his duties to take care of again. He highly doubted he could run another day on just fumes, especially the first one of the students’ return. 

Rolling his eyes at his own cretinism, he thought, very consciously, as so to override every cell of his body wishing to keep him away from the werewolf, that he wanted to be able to touch him.

He felt the charm act and then opened his eyes once more. Remus, now covered in the greyish shadow and with the outline of his shape rather blurred, was still well away, completely oblivious to his struggles. They were at arm’s reach now, so even closer than when he cast the light at Lupin’s sleeping silhouette. Severus stretched his right hand tentatively towards the werewolf and it bogged in the air above him. It did not tremble, but was damn near that.

 _Yes, and what will he do? Wake up, transform and attack me? Haven’t I already proven to myself that I am perilously quick to react even if he did, by some miracle?_ When that thought crossed his head, Severus lowered his hand again. He pulled his wand from its sheath in the left sleeve and tucked it under the pillow. That, he decided, should give him a second or two to think before he would do something foolhardy and outright stupid, like murder.

He returned to his previous task now. Feeling thoroughly dumb and embarrassed for himself, he let his fingertips graze Remus’ beard, then his warm, _inhumanly warm_ , skin. The Mark prickled, but he had full control of the pain currently and dulled it with Occlumency.

The bed did not pull them away.

Remus twitched at the touch, probably due to the temperature difference between the two of them. Yet, just as Severus had expected, having once overturned a chair on his way back from the cradle without waking ‘the other Lupin’ up, he remained deeply immersed in his slumber. Remus might have enjoyed pretending to be stronger than he actually was on Christmas night (“Not quite.” – now would anyone believe him he hadn’t been up, panicking over his own and Teddy’s fate?). However, when actually asleep, he was as deaf (and, apparently – blind and insensitive to touch), as any ordinary human; more than that, perhaps, especially when he was exhausted by the recent transformation.

Severus let his fingers trace a line along his chiselled face, brushing lightly against the numerous lines – of wrinkles and scars – decorating it. His fingers settled, pressed together against Remus’ cheek. Then, he shifted a little, so that his forearm rested on Remus’ duvet, figuring that this should do the trick. At least until he would fall asleep he expected to be able to remain in such a position.

 _Human, human, human_ – he repeated to himself like a mantra.

Finally, he closed his eyes. Rather than on the amber irises of a werewolf, he focused on the protruded line of a scar right under Remus’ eye, palpable against his fingers, and the softness of his beard slightly tickling the base of his hand.

For whatever reason – Severus kept having to assure himself that the touch was _platonic and solely with a precise purpose in mind_.

No more dreamed wolves with barred teeth jumped at Severus straight from the bedding that night. When he woke up, his hand had slid onto the covers, with just the tips of his fingers touching Remus’ neck. He reminded himself chidingly that it was supposed to be purpose-oriented and drew it back quickly, a while before he got up from the bed.

\---

Night visions of this sort never surrendered easily once they had made their first appearance.

Severus hadn’t relived the memory of the Shack in so much detail since he was a schoolboy. He asked himself whether Remus had ever experienced the same nightmare in reverse, but that thought soon drowned in the stream of others.

Besides, it would be rather risky to start that topic in particular, when they had only recently made up after their last quarrel. Especially, considering that the hot spots of that one were Black and Remus’ wolfish impulsiveness.

They were now busy planning the next letter to the redheads and Granger. Therefore, it would be most ill-advised for Severus to get thoroughly insulted and slightly bruised on the arm again. Not to say that Severus was not sure he would be able to take that while keeping his composure. It could prompt him to do something rash and badly thought-through, which he would later regret, like hitting Lupin with a curse or worse – clashing lips into his.

Due to those circumstances, Severus continued with his method of fighting the flashbacks for over a week. It was as hazardous as it was ridiculous and he had no idea how to explain himself should Lupin ever realise, but it was effective.

His deliberate choice to stop touching him the second either of them would regain consciousness seemed to work. On the two occasions that Teddy cried in the night, (both of which Remus slept through, typically for this part of the moon cycle), Severus woke up to feel the distance increase. Similarly, in the mornings. There was no need to linger – after all, the touch was _solely platonic and purposeful,_ and Severus saw to maintaining it so.

The meek voice telling him that this was untrue was easy to strangle, even though it had started naming arguments for its case, or accusations. _You did not actually **have to** fondle the scar on his forehead. The werewolf would probably sleep through you smacking him in the face, yet you are being delicate... _It even straight-out jeered at him every now and then – _If this is ‘scientific’, then you might owe Cissa an apology for treating her like an experiment._

His only defence was that each time he first tried to fall asleep without touching Remus at all, to check if he could do that yet.

Lately it was the Forbidden Forest itself (and not merely its borders) that was being patrolled for the presence of wolves. It wasn’t until seven consecutive patrols yielded no results, that the Headmaster gave his permission to lift the barrier. This coincided with Severus finding out around 1 a.m. on the same day, that the amber-eyed werewolf had finally gotten bored of hunting him down and left the land of his nightmares.

He had no business being near Lupin now. Having closed his eyes and seeing just darkness as the lining of his eyelids, Severus let the bed draw them apart.

Not sensing the charm work and still rather distinctly hearing Remus’ breathing, he looked around in the darkness again. The reason he had not felt the enchantments take effect was simple – they did not. Clearly, his subconscious will was not enough to prompt them to do so, anymore. What he had achieved, apart from defeating his recurrent nightmare, was getting used to Remus’ closeness.

_Tremendous._

Severus concentrated and forced the bed to obey his conscious decision.

He didn’t have trouble sleeping that night. Perhaps it took him a little longer to succumb to it than it did the last few days, but it certainly could not be the **lack of** a werewolf inches from him causing that. After all, even if Remus’ presence nearby did have some calming qualities, it was all his fault from the very start either way. _As usual, all comes down to Lupin and his idiot dead friends._

The day after that, however, it was Remus who had a nightmare.

Earlier that day a horned owl brought him a letter in which his Lord made a request for various combat-useful potions. Severus did not have the privilege of refusing. To regain His full trust he needed to prove himself. Therefore, he had spent the whole evening and most of the night in the laboratory. He entered the bedroom exhausted and at a time, which he was rather used to – one hard to determine as either night or early morning. He appreciated having already dealt with his terrifying night-visions more than ever before.

However, petty coincidence interrupted again. This time round – through the whimpers issuing from the other side of the bed. While soft, they rather precluded Severus’ falling asleep. He was unwilling to put that off any longer, for fear of his drowsiness fading away, leaving him to another sleepless hour (or more).

Between the “Yes, we will share the information only I possess within a letter, but my consequent death will count on your conscience, Lupin.” and the whole trauma-fighting ordeal, Severus was clearly on a roll in terms of horribly bad ideas this January. Thus, he was not even surprised by himself, when he decided to check if he could make Remus’ nightmare dissipate.

He had experience in that as the receiving side rather than the active one, but he knew that even light touch could bring an assuaging change to a dream.

The bed brought them closer the second that thought crossed his mind.

_Good, at least it is not I who is torturing him this time._

Carefully, because now the threat of Lupin waking up was certainly higher, Severus trailed his fingers up the line of Remus’ neck; then, up along his jawbone and cheek. Seeing as Lupin gentled, Severus decided to take his hand back and return to _finally bloody sleeping._ In that moment, however, Remus’ lips, which had just stopped quivering with the whines, arched in a smile. Though he felt it more than he saw it, Severus knew that this was the signature, naively serene one and that it was likely caused by his touch.

And he was _fucking_ _done for_.

The part of Severus that valued reason was yelling at him to take his goddamned hand back. His excuse had already expired and this was not supposed to last a day longer than it should. That inner voice had a solid litany of arguments, ranging from all the recollections of Lupin from school (with the Shack highlighted in bright red), through the simple yet powerful – _‘This is going complicate things._ ’, ‘ _You are being foolish.’_ , and ‘ _You barely tolerate him._ ’ – to how this wasn’t exactly fair to Narcissa.

The other part objected to that whole list, presenting a single, airtight counterargument of ‘ _It won’t kill either of you_ ’. This part of his mind was closely related to another one – the one, which wanted Remus to slam him against a wall, bite his lip until it bled (with no regard for safety) and make him groan.

Severus liked to think of himself as a reasonable man and yet, he listened to the second part.

Once again, he fell asleep with his palm pressed against Remus’ skin, while Lupin kept smiling, judging by the slight tension of the muscles of his cheek.

It depended on Lupin’s sleeping position – on his back or side, which, as the moon cycle progressed, occasionally changed from right to left. But, since then, whenever possible Severus would fall asleep with his hand on Remus’ cheek. ‘Whenever possible’ turned out to be – almost every night.

He attempted self-persuasion about that subject later as well, with exactly as much success as before.

Remus’ face simply invited him to follow the tracks of its premature lines.

Wrinkles were huddled around Remus’ eyes and mouth, the souvenirs of expressing far too much emotion, Severus would argue. The scratches of scars were scattered around his skin just like his, now pale, freckles. With two exceptions, they were little and noticeable only from up close or by touch. First of the deep scars was the one hiding underneath his left eye. Short, but with a rough outline, it spread to the sides, as if the wound had never closed properly. The second one twined around Lupin’s nose. It was so obvious and striking that Severus had gotten used to completely ignoring it. He rediscovered it almost with surprise, as it poked the inside of his hand.

Severus had a knack for detail. Thus, by the time half the month had passed, he would probably be able to recall Lupin’s features blindfolded and with a portrayer’s accuracy.

Meanwhile Remus, based on their interactions when awake, which had kept their normal, a bit taunting timbre, had not noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Severus refrained from transferring the touch to the day-hours in even the most non-committal of manners. Doing that would force him to acknowledge that he was attracted to the man ( _the werewolf_ ). Besides, as the muffled voice of reason was still begging him to note – would likely complicate things; emotions always did. Then, there also was something very teenager-like, basic timorousness, perhaps, which stemmed Severus from revealing the secret.

He kept fighting with himself on whether he wanted Remus to wake up and realise. Frankly, the current situation fit him just as well – or at least – he was skilled in pretending to himself that it did. Besides, Remus’ unawareness guaranteed Severus the stability of not having to face anything dead on.

After all, he wasn’t even sure that Lupin was into men, not to say – him.

Remus had been into _and with_ Black, presumably, though that might have been an erroneous guess on Severus’ side. The mere notion of being compared to that man sent a cutting shiver down his spine. It did not help that he was acutely aware he would lose in that comparison.

Severus was uncertain whether he felt anything more than lust towards Lupin, preferring not to dissect the matter. Still, he wanted to keep on the safe side of things and that one did not feature braving the Remus’ judgements of him.

Instead of fearing having to hide even more difficult memories from his Lord, should any appear, Severus found himself oddly terrified by a much plainer issue – rejection.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus had been dreaming quite a lot about lying on a beach, with his skin against the pleasantly coarse surface of cold sand.

He hadn’t seen the sea in quite a while now – the last time being during the war. Back then, he wasn’t able to revel in the peaceful experience of visiting the seaside. Now he could properly relish the rising sun warming his limbs, while his cheeks and hands remained oddly cool as for themselves due to the closeness of the ground.

The beach looked as if it had been carved in ivory. Then, at the very last moment of its creation, someone must have remembered it was supposed to look lively and stuck some greenery here and there.

The waves were crashing against the coast in whirls of azure and milk whiteness of foam, trundling sticks and shellfish up the shore. Behind Remus’ resting place a sparse forest stood guard. On his sides – the dunes ducked under the irregular ranks of yellowish grass, which stood out against the whiteness of sand like a receding hairline of a pallid giant. The wind was peacefully sweeping through the brush, adding its susurrus to the soughing of the waves.

Once or twice Remus was transported there straight from a nightmare of some sort, with the punch-like feel at his solar plexus, as if by means of unconscious disapparition. Instantly, he would forget what had been happening before. That was what made him realise this was a dream. Despite having had that epiphany, he wasn’t able to affect the scenario (and he wouldn’t want to, anyways).

Remus felt safe there, alone and calm.

The beach was empty, but for the seagulls swooping over the occasional crab they were tormenting. As for humans – he was the only one there, resting with his hands under his scruff, so that sand wouldn’t get into his hair. His brain was filled solely with the sensations – the smell of salt in the breeze, the sounds of birds’ screeching, the view of the sky splattered with violets and pinks, the feel of the sand.

Whenever Remus dreamt of the place, his mind was as serene as the scenery. Not a single haunting thought was in it, which he wasn’t sure had ever happened while he was awake.

It was one of the very few dreams he was able to recall in detail in which he **didn’t remember**. He was able to remember them, however, and thus noticed they began recently, then – how persistently recurring they became. However, he certainly didn’t wish for them to go away.

Once, he was lying on the beach as usual, currently on his side, when the sea reached his outstretched legs. The water was even colder than the sand, which Remus was still touching with his cheek and a part of his forehead. The wave only grazed the bare soles of his feet, not succumbing to the temptation of reaching any further, not even to the hem of the nightshirt he had on. Just as the muscles of his toes momentarily contracted, the wave retreated, only to return in a moment – up around his ankles.

This woke Remus up, for some reason.

The sensation of the sand against his cheek hadn’t dissipated yet, though now it was joined by the awareness of the pillowcase against the other one. By the smells – Teddy’s coming from behind his back, the herbal one, a tad stronger than the other – from the front, he was able to realise that he was lying on his other side than in the dream.

His eyes fluttered open and he gauged the reality. The never fully impenetrable darkness of the bedroom hadn’t managed to swallow a pale face – close enough for Remus to see it quite clearly.

Severus’ sharp features were accentuated in the shadows. They always seemed to belong to the night hours in some peculiar way, just like his pitch-black eyes, now wide and boring into Remus’. Severus was quite frozen, as if hit with a body-bind curse and holding his breath. He had been suspended in an odd position – with his right arm lifted and its palm resting against Remus’ cheek.

_Doing what now?!_

Remus blinked a few times and pinched himself on his thigh under the covers, just to ensure that he had actually woken up.

Nothing changed.

Severus was still oddly googly-eyed as for himself, like a doe caught in the headlights, looking as bemused as Remus was. Severus’ spidery hand, which had been _caressing?!_ Remus’ cheek above the line of his beard, remained quite motionless, earning itself the final proof of its resemblance to the arachnids – paralysed by merely being noticed.

The hand’s owner, apparently not keen to betray any connection with the bit of sand-rough skin that was touching Remus’ by means of moving it, swallowed hardly. This close up, Remus distinctly saw his Adam’s apple twitch above the dark grey collar of his nightrobe.

Remus fervently wondered _what the fuck is going on?!_ That unasked question must have appeared in Severus’ mind as well, since the quiver of his lip betrayed that he wanted to present Remus with an answer to it.

“I—I—“ Severus began, stuttering as he so rarely did, as a dark cloud of a blush crept up his neck, rapidly engulfing what wasn’t shadowed of his face. Pink, masquerading as grey, had soon covered it whole, up to the above of his cheekbones. Remus’ gaze, relentless while he silently waited for an explanation, only boosted its intensity.

Remus didn’t, however, attempt to shake the hand off of his cheek. Its rough inside, worn against potioneering appliances no doubt, felt right when absorbing the heat from his skin, sort of like it _fit_ there.

In a short moment, Severus regained his speech and, having shooed the awkward teenager away, his usual self took over, announcing itself by bending the faint line of his mouth askew. “I was – well – I was checking if you were human, so to speak.” he said and, despite the whisper lacking edge, immediately hit Remus with an unexpected blow.

Whatever it was he saw on Remus’ face after uttering those words, it made him add, with sincere-sounding softness, something that came quite close to an apology. “That was a jest, Remus, solely a jest.”

Remus responded with a faint smile, which felt starkly fake on his lips.

 _Was it, really?_ Somehow, it made more sense to Remus that this would have been the real purpose for Severus to get this close to a werewolf than any other possible explanation. Since the ill-fated post-Christmas quarrel Severus had returned to his long-forgotten behaviours of keeping at quite a distance from him at all times. _When I’m awake, at least._ Remus was painfully conscious that this was probably his own fault, as he had failed to control his temper twice then. Thus, he had accepted that as his comeuppance.

Meanwhile, as Remus knew from the lack of barrier and less frequent patrols around the Forest – something happened with the werewolves there. He didn’t dare ask, expecting that he’d find out one day either way. Severus’ persistent silence on the matter indicated that he had taken part in it. Clearly equating Remus to the wolves, he either wanted to spare him or himself sharing the news.

But if that was not a joke, if he was afraid and appalled – _why was he so gentle and why hasn’t he recoiled yet?_

Severus had to sense his smile more than see it in the darkness (his night vision, after all, wasn’t comparable to Remus’), but the factitiousness of it must have made itself plain to him somehow. Or maybe it was his own embarrassment that prompted his question.

“Should I draw away, Remus?” Severus asked, moving his leg and thus bringing Remus’ attention to the fact that, despite the presence of the two duvets, their feet somehow managed to get within touch-distance as well.

Wondering what Severus was doing inches from s _ ~~omeone~~_ _something_ he was scared of (and probably somewhere inside – deeply disgusted by), kept Remus preoccupied enough that he hadn’t even pondered over the answer to this before. Now that he did, however, it slipped from his tongue almost on its own, “No.”

When he spoke, a lock of hair fell onto his face. Severus’ fingers automatically brushed it away.

 _The hell am I doing?_ If this wasn’t just a ploy to assuage Severus’ worry, then this could be going the way Remus absolutely shouldn’t allow it to go. Indeed, that first excuse didn’t seem all too plausible, given that his touch felt affectionate rather than technical.

“I mean yes—“

Severus frowned, making the black lines of his brows almost converge. “So is it a yes or a no? I need a clearer answer for future purposes. If your mental capabilities at this hour do not allow you to give such, we can postpone this discussion—“ he offered with mock-graciousness. “—and for now—“ he added, lifting his hand of Remus’ cheek and leaving the sentence hanging.

Though he had clearly decided what to do on his own, Severus was still staring at him, in that flustering, expectant way of his.

Remus let himself swiftly think it through again.

If Severus hadn’t lied to him (which he was still doubting), then the touch was quite suggestive. That in itself was shocking, considering how Severus, in his quite amusing denial, kept emphasizing that they weren’t even friends.

From Severus’ reaction and words, he could fathom that this wasn’t a one-time occurrence. It must have happened before, only this was the first time Remus woke up. However, his behaviour during the day never gave Lupin any hints about this. If Severus did have sexual intentions towards him, then he had been thoroughly masking them. He could have let Remus know by means of, _for an easy example_ , acting like an infatuated shy teen, when they were **both** awake. _By simply showing me._

Yes – why hadn’t he? _Why does he have to hide it, leaving me to wonder whether he’s scared of me again, only to accidentally find out that it wasn’t that? Why does he have to be so damn reticent, mysterious and now outright creepy, hadn’t it been for the enchantment?_ – Remus wondered, forcefully subduing his irritation. He didn’t have the energy to get into a round of verbal-bludger hitting just now.

Due to Severus’ general demeanour and Remus’ own troubles – the grief, the guilt, the responsibility – as well as the numerous buried skeletons the two of them shared, Remus hadn’t let himself see Severus in a romantic way before. He could, now that he thought of it, but he was very convinced that he shouldn’t.

Remus was profoundly aware that he was a werewolf and a bad omen for his loved ones, looking at his history. Besides – it was Severus, of all people. That observation alone didn’t need any supportive arguments for its case. If it had necessitated them, however, there was the one of how it could over-complicate their living situation; and that was already difficult enough. Surely, Severus knew that too.

Another thing was whether Severus even had the intention for this to be romantic and lead to something more. The gesture maybe was, in itself. It was quite sweet, actually, unexpectedly so. Nevertheless, such a conjecture would require assuming Severus could be attracted to him, have feelings even – for him, for a werewolf! Even given Severus’ contradicting nature and inexplicable changes of heart, that sounded far-fetched to Remus.

 _He had said it himself, hadn’t he? Bestiality - that’s what he would see it as._ – he reminded himself, though only the most self-hating part of him believed Severus had really meant that then.

In the case that he wasn’t appalled by him, however, Severus could want more than to graze his cheek with his icy cold fingers.

It was a bit egoistic of Remus to want this – and just this, when Severus would be getting nothing in return, but on the other hand, it was his choice to offer it. A meek, hopeful voice in Remus’ mind suggested that, _maybe,_ _Severus doesn’t want anything in return_. The man had already proven himself to be surprisingly altruistic towards Remus. Yet, in this context, that could once again imply feelings.

Remus, despite definitely having the time to do so, hadn’t yet managed to decipher those of Severus Snape correctly, unless the man wasn’t on his full guard. In this matter, he apparently was. Therefore, as he truly should have gotten used to being, Remus was left in the dark. His only options were to confront him or wait for the events to unfold and deal with any problems when (or if) they appeared.

He was leaning towards the latter alternative.

Severus didn’t exactly give him a say in this before. Apparently, he had assumed that the bed’s protection of his will was enough, but Remus trusted he wouldn’t misinterpret his consent or try to push it. After all, he was pretty insistent on hearing a clear answer now.

 _It’s just touch, in Merlin’s name. It doesn’t have to mean anything, or go anywhere; I’m not even sure Severus would want it to. Not with what I am._ Remus clung to that notion with all his might, because it was something he was used to and he felt stable with it.

_Hasn’t he mentioned in December, that around Teddy’s birthday we’ll stop sharing the bed anyways?_

All in all, Remus deemed that it wasn’t wise to admit he wanted it, but hell if it didn’t feel nice.

“I think I’d like it if you haven’t drawn away.” he said finally, when Severus was close to giving up on awaiting an answer, judging by the growingly protracted, drowsy blinks of his.

Severus didn’t respond, but his lips twisted a little in a self-satisfied simper. The thin, pale shape of his hand emerged from underneath the duvet and landed in its former place. Remus minutely cringed from the coldness. He then smiled again, to soften the impact of that, aware that he was still observed by the onyx black eyes, melting with the darkness all around them.

“Goodnight Severus.” he whispered, feeling the weight of Severus’ hand shift on his skin with the movement of his jaw. In their current position these simple words sounded intimate, not off-handed as Remus had intended them to be.

“Goodnight Remus.” Severus replied in the usual silky whisper, as his eyes flickered shut.

Remus dreamed of the tranquil seaside again.


	16. The Accomplice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Self-indulgent author's note:** Sooo… I just officially finished writing the 1st draft of the last chapter and really can’t wait to get to publishing it already. Anyway, bits of Drastoria and the continuation of the main thread are here, so enjoy!  
>  Also - Draco is so very much a Black (aka a drama queen). 

It was amazing how the mere promise of action could increase one’s energy levels, even when what was in store was vague, distant and possibly horrible.

The first letter they sent to the resistance was curt and written by Severus during the time they didn’t speak to each other. _“He’s back. You may hear what I said in the 1 st letter no longer holds true. However, it is possible, if not certain, that it does. His choice of measures has changed.” _Under the message, a minuscule triangular symbol was sharply drawn.

The next one, however, was much more comprehensive – involving details fished out of Severus’ conversations with those of the Ministry officials he knew personally, all covered up with another bunch of protective spells. Remus had refreshed his knowledge used years ago (and once or twice during the last war) and so the letter wouldn’t open without a specific pass. That, in this case, was not a word nor a spell – it was the combination of an image and a solution to Severus’ riddle. Either Hermione or Minerva could access it (two, in case either of them had been hurt) and Ajax had been instructed accordingly.

It seemed that a similar recognising spell had been used on the seal of the letter to Severus, which was partly where the inspiration came from. Unlike that letter, however, this one was enchanted in such a manner whole; thus, it would become unreadable to anyone without the appearance of either of those two women. Of course, this protection was still nowhere near foolproof – a simple batch of Polyjuice or a well-executed human-transfiguration, could let somebody read the contents. Therefore, they partly counted on Ajax’s ability to distinguish such fraud.

The letter was sent in the third week of the new year, after much deliberation and Severus’ griping on how this was certain to turn against them. Remus not only took that as a personal slight against his spells, but was also quite sure it was Severus’ attempt to convince him to passiveness or, as he called it, a more “temperate approach”. Although he understood Severus’ scruples, Remus had had enough of inaction in the last few months and nothing made him happier than the ability to do something that could actually prove valuable.

Meanwhile, ever since he had been caught in the act of touching Remus’ face, Severus had abandoned his temporarily regained habit of treating Lupin as if he was made of live embers.

Remus was used to physical contact with those (few and select, but still) he was close with, so it didn’t necessarily mean anything to him. Nevertheless, he was conscious that when coming from a man whose whole demeanour screamed, “Keep off.”, it probably did.

Severus hadn’t, however, stopped giving the impression that he was fighting with himself on this and his fear of Remus was clear as a plenilune night, especially as the Full Moon itself approached. Remus thought that his snarling at Severus last month might have reinforced it or maybe that was caused by whatever happened at the Forbidden Forest. Whatever it was, it made it even more surprising that most of the time Severus continued on his path of not treating Remus like he was contagious. Despite deeply appreciating that, Remus was filled with persistent disbelief about all this and was constantly looking out for a catch.

Apart from that little alteration in Severus’ behaviour, nothing changed between them; Severus was still utterly embarrassed by being nice to either him or Teddy, he still winced every now and then when they touched each other, and remained as snide in his kindness as ever.

The changes that did take place were quite subtle.

For example, when, at the end of January, Remus took notice of an oddity on the Marauder’s Map and called Snape to show him, Severus didn’t snatch the parchment from his hand (like he had done a few times with the Prophets), but leaned over his arm to look at it.

“See?” Remus said, indicating the corridors one by one. “There were seven passages – I’m quite sure of that – and the problem is I have no idea **where** the seventh one disappeared from – or to, but I remember it having been **somewhere**.”

Severus frowned with scepticism at first, then counted the passageways and, having twisted his head towards him, measured Remus with a searching glance. “Are you sure?” he asked and his voice betrayed agitation.

“I know your school better than you do, headmaster?” Remus inquired sarcastically. Then, seeing the graveness of his expression, Remus added, more seriously, “Absolutely, yes.” and Severus’ sceptic frown quickly moulded into one of anger.

Heaving slightly, Severus stared at the piece of parchment with shocked hatred, visibly restraining himself from hitting something, probably to avoid scaring Teddy. The child was supposed to get his potion now, before being laid down to sleep, which was what Severus had come in for. Teddy was, however, completely oblivious to all that – sitting up in his cradle, focused only on making the fluffy peacock and the lion fight each other.

“Fidelius Charm.” Severus mumbled, which sounded more like a hiss than real words. He seemed to know for sure, not merely conjecture. Next, he took the map from Remus and placed it on the desktop nearby, looking at it with a mix of rage and scepticism, and leaning against the desk wearily, as if he needed the support to stand upright. “That shortsighted, callow brat—“ he started listing, still under his breath, though audibly to Remus. “—He is completely inane. Completely inane—” he repeated, voice jumping with a restrained yell. “I swear I will kill him for this – or better yet – I will let his father know – he’ll kill him and my conscience will remain clear on the matter.”

Remus didn’t know exactly why, but the mention of ‘a father’ instantly turned his mind to the answer to the question – who Severus was raging about. _Draco. It must be about Draco._ _But what the hell would Draco Malfoy be casting a Fidelius on school-grounds for?_

Truly, all Severus’ masks of indifference were falling apart in moments of this kind, when Remus witnessed emotions overcome him.

Since Severus wasn’t in Voldemort’s or Eaters’ presence, he was letting himself experience them, apparently a lot less inhibited around Remus. Due to that, in those short moments before Severus managed to collect himself, Remus could catch a glimpse of guilt (like with anything that involved tortures), fear, or – like right now – solicitousness. His worry bore fury, but it still was there – Remus knew how detached Severus was able to force himself to be, and thus, that he wouldn’t be half as mad if he didn’t care about the derelict boy.

He was already beginning to compose himself and, Remus noted, wasn’t biting his lip in concern no more. The offspring of his worry, however, was harder to contain, judging by his glower.

Although Severus’ threats were obviously an outstretch, Remus wouldn’t put it past him to immediately send an owl (since Ajax was busy now) to Lucius.

Remus’ short-lasted career as a Hogwarts’ professor, seemed to belong to a whole other life now. However, if those 3rd grade lessons on Boggarts taught **the teacher** anything, it was that the kids who expected having really terrifying ones (with the exception of Harry), either talked to him about it before the tackling began, or went out of their ways to avoid facing the creature. Draco didn’t strike him as the fearful type, but he did keep in the back during that lesson, jeering at Remus’ patched robes with his friends. That combined with the boy’s reflex to duck slightly whenever someone was approaching from the back and above – like to collect the essay on Grindylows and take a good look at it – lead to an obvious conclusion.

Remus doubted that Draco’s fear of his father had changed much with time and, although he wasn’t exactly sympathetic towards the young Death-Eater-to-be, allegedly the blond teen was very nice to Teddy, which could be a redeeming quality.

“Maybe question him first?” Remus now suggested meekly, “It might be just a misplacing hex, you know?”

Severus tilted his head abruptly, causing his hair, which had been tucked behind his ears, to free itself and slide onto his face again. Then, he looked at Remus as if he had just realised the man was still there and let out a deep huff of breath before he spoke, making the hairs on his forehead tremble and jump against the whiff.

“I wish it was a hex. But it is not.” brushing away the black strands obscuring his vision, Severus confirmed Remus’ suspicion that he wasn’t just guessing. “The brat asked me about the charm during Christmas – I refused to tell him – but he keeps a few secrets from Lucius, so I believed it was ‘for home usage’.”

This confirmed Remus’ assumption that it was indeed Draco, but Severus didn’t add anything more than this, leaving him to wonder. _Is it possible that Draco is plotting against Voldemort?_ – Remus asked himself. He didn’t see any other uses the spell could have in the current climate, apart from the rebellious kind. However, that didn’t align with the image of the young man allured by Dark Magic and bullying other kids for fun. To Remus this just didn’t fit the Draco he knew about, who was ready to put the world in his pocket like his father before him; but then again – it didn’t fit Severus to have saved or be kind to, _~~or possibly be falling for,~~ ‘Lupin’_ either.

The world was not exactly logical or holding up to anyone’s expectations these days, much less Remus’. Nevertheless, it was best to remain on one’s guard.

Meanwhile, Severus shot yet another glare at the Map, maybe hoping the reality had changed and the corridor returned, proving that it was indeed ‘just a hex’. Since it apparently didn’t, he gave up on observing the parchment and pushed himself away from the desk with a tad too much energy, thus shoving it into the wall with a thud. Exactly how Remus had expected, he then darted a quick, surveying glance at Teddy, who had twitched a bit at the sound, but then returned to playing blithely.

With a curt, “Thanks.”, Severus slid the Map back into his hands. Next he strode to the door, heading, as Remus instantly realised, to his office.

“Severus—“ Remus began, halting him right before he’d leave the room, “—surely you’re not going to talk to him now, are you? I mean… It’ll attract quite a lot of attention if you get him out of the Common Room at this hour – and, if it is against the Dark Lord—“ he ventured into his surmises, in the hopes of checking whether he’d agree with him. However, Severus’ expression was now deadpan and non-speaking. “—if it is for **our** side, then it’s better for nobody to realise. He’s the head boy, right?” Severus nodded crisply. “—So you’ll surely find an excuse to see him even on a Saturday. That’ll give you time to cool down a bit and devise a punishment – maybe one less permanent than death?” _Besides, then, you’re less likely to do anything not on par with your normal stoicism, just because you fear for the kid._

To Remus’ relief, Severus’ features smoothened a bit upon his joke. The tenseness swept away from his face and it was clear that he had lost the momentum. “Since when is it you who’s the reasonable one, Lupin?” Severus wondered, and only sympathy to his stress about Draco stopped Remus from replying that this had always been the case.

Severus disappeared through the door to the kitchen either way, but now, Remus knew, only to take the bottle for Teddy from the cupboard, evidently having decided to bring it to him, instead of the other way round.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Severus had let Remus talk himself into waiting. Frankly, he had been letting Lupin talk him into quite a lot of things, these days. A lot of it had to do with taking action ( _rash, goading, damned Gryffindor_ ), so this turn of 180 degrees was a rather welcome change. 

It was late in the afternoon, the day after Remus had found out about the corridor, when Severus finally called Draco to his office.

One glance at the boy told him that he was fully aware why he had been summoned. Draco’s hair had already grown to back-length and was resting against his nape and flowing down his shoulders in platinum streams. The resemblance to Lucius was as stark as Severus had predicted it to be; Draco looked like his father rejuvenated back to the years when he too was sporting a badge, though with a different letter. This Malfoy, however, was standing hunched back and without the typical brass. His father would never let himself be caught in such a stance in front of anyone, much less Severus of all people.

“Good afternoon professor, you wanted to see me.” he drawled in a plummy manner. Despite his unlike-Lucius pose, Severus had to remind himself that Draco was not his father. He wanted to be mad at the brat for the right reasons.

“Afternoon, Draco, sit down.” he ordered curtly.

Draco took a seat in the chair he had indicated, but he didn’t lounge in it as was his custom. Instead, he sat with his knees touching, right hand laying on them and the other one upon it, turning his rings. This visit was very much dissimilar to his other ones in this office – he was in for a scolding and he was aware of that.

“By your behaviour I am presuming you know why I wanted to talk to you, Draco.” Snape began, controlling his voice. He sincerely wanted to get through to him, not simply scare him into abandoning his plans. He did not intend to rest until he would find out in extensor what Draco had been plotting. Only this, Severus believed, could allow him to talk him out of it successfully – not like the last time.

“I think I do, sir.”

“Explain yourself, then.” he demanded, and heard his own voice freeze already. “In detail, Draco.” he added, this time managing to make the words sound softer and more like a request than a dictate.

“Well, sir... as you know, I’ve been interested in the Fidelius charm – so I wanted to test it.”

“Don’t – lie – to me – Draco.” Severus hissed.

“But sir, I am not lying.” the boy refuted him, as their eyes met for a moment, as if he wanted to prove his sincerity. “I was testing because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cast the spell properly. As you must have seen, I was correct in that.” Although his fingers kept playing with the silver nervously, his expression and tone were composed and almost _relaxed_. “I need it to work – because I’m forming—“ he paused for the effect, “—a society whose location I’d rather kept secret from the unauthorised eyes.”

The meaning of those words was so obvious to him, that Draco could just as well shouted “I support the muggleborns!” or “I am plotting against the Dark Lord!” Certainly, the impact of that on Severus would have been comparable _._

_This inane brat is going to get himself killed by our Lord; and Narcissa will waste away because of him._

It was rather peculiar that Draco would come up to an official and a follower of the Dark Lord of Severus’ status and reveal such an incriminating information so freely. At the time, however, that barely registered with Severus. Mainly, he was furious with Draco’s recklessness in the use of the charm.

All notions of self-restraint thrown out of the window, Severus leaned across the desk towards Draco. “On the legacy of Salazar Slytherin, tell me, what were you thinking, boy?!” he snarled, so forcefully that his ribcage threatened to collapse.

Draco hadn’t been looking straight at him so far, with that one momentary exception. Now however, his eyes lingered on Snape as he listened to him yelling. Severus thought he caught a glimpse of amusement in the cool gray, which had only caused him to bellow louder, of course.

“WERE YOU THINKING?!” He caught himself and returned to his usual, softer tone. “Is it your father’s position or has your Head Boy badge sucked the brains from your skull. Or do you have some other excuse for acting like you are invincible? Do you believe that the lack of curses guarding the tunnels means you are free to use them as your playground, Mister Malfoy?”

“I was thinking, professor—“ Draco said calmly, when Severus had paused to breathe, “—that you would have helped me. Since—“

“It might have escaped your notice—or you reached the wrong conclusions on the matter due to my – apparently far too lenient treatment of yourself in the past – but I am not your mother—“ Severus cut in, belatedly realising he shouldn’t have invoked Cissa in this conversation. “—and as such, I have no obligation to help or coddle you. Especially not in what I myself have prohibited at the school.”

“Oh, that much is clear to me, sir.” Draco drawled, changing the object of his anxious fiddling to his hair and twirling a blond lock around his index finger. “My mother would never have yelled at me like that. And it’s nothing illicit, actually. You do remember giving me permission to form a tutoring club for N.E.W.T. students, right, professor?” There was a note of smugness in his tone. “So again – nothing against the rules. However, as I was saying—“

_The club you set up in November is a damned Dumbledore’s Army all over again? Or is it Draco’s Army now, as more fit for a Malfoy?_

Severus quelled his urge to continue castigating Draco, reminding himself he was supposed to hear his story out whole. So far, the boy seemed to trust him fully, as if he couldn’t even imagine Severus punishing him for it as harshly as he should. Maybe he knew something he ought not to. Unfortunately, there was no time for mental cataloguing and inspecting now, so Severus could not check whether – and when – Draco could have conjectured he and his mother weren’t solely old friends.

“—since you refused to help me—“ Draco went on, with a hint of reproach, “—And, sir, you must’ve known that I only ask for assistance when it’s absolutely unavoidable that I do so – I was forced to attempt fathoming the spell out on my own. Predictably – it didn’t work exactly the way it should’ve—“

“’Exactly the way it should have’?!” Severus cackled bitterly. “Do you even hear yourself, Draco? Anyone who was aware of the existence of that corridor will now suspect something peculiar is happening.”

“Yes, that’s not exactly how it should have been, is it?” Draco asked, sounding guileless. “However, if you helped me, professor – and mind you, there is still time for you to do that – I’m sure I would have succeeded. I failed to cast the memory layer – I am not great enough at memory-affecting charms. Or at deciphering medieval books, I’m afraid—” he admitted with disarming sincerity complemented with a grin of similar properties.

This time, Severus had to remind himself that this was only Malfoyish bargaining. This was not an eleven year old, downcast due to his rival becoming a Seeker, but an adult Malfoy heir talking. There could be a trap in his words and he had to be careful. Besides, if Draco was as lost and naive a kid as he had been acting out, it was all even more troubling. Severus had just denied it, but he was very much driven to protect the boy from whatever danger he had gotten himself into. No overt words bound him to do so, of course, only his connection to Cissa.

Draco was now shifting beneath the surface, his behavioural mask slipping. His next statement, even though delivered while restlessly coiling a strand of hair around his fingers, was demanding in nature. “Therefore I am asking for your help again, professor Snape. Although, this time, I have to emphasize that your help is requisite for this to work. You **have to** help me, sir.”

Pushing away the ink bottle to avoid jostling and overturning it, Severus leaned even closer to the boy. Draco’s eyes were filled with fog and serene, blank almost – he was on the Weasleys’ drugs again. Severus’ experiments on them gave him proof that, while not harmful in themselves, they were rather addictive. It was all the fault of an extract from marmite’s nematocysts used as the key component. Severus could not keep reminding him that without seeming nagging, but he had told Draco about that outcome. However, even then it was obvious that he was late with his warnings. If only Draco hadn’t had the need for those sedatives in the first place... _Poor boy,_ swam through his mind, but got lost in the storm of his fury quickly.

“My Lord may order me about, Mister Malfoy, but apart from Him, nobody has that privilege.” he said in his lowest voice, presaging the threat of another outburst. _Not even your father._

“I am not ordering you, sir, I’m **asking** —“ Draco corrected, suddenly sounding joyful and leaving the hair be. “—Besides, I am quite sure that you do take orders from some people.” The steel eyes, hazy and glimmering with sparks of artificial cheer, met Severus’ black ones like two clouds colliding in the sky. Then, Draco said, blithely and with incongruous warmness, “From professor Lupin on drinking, for example.”

In a split second, Severus’ heart sank, met with the acid, which had instantly begun boiling in his stomach, and evaporated, leaving his head fuddled by its toxic fumes.

_FUCK._

This felt very much like the final realisation he would die; he almost heard the rustle of scales against the floor. Only it was ten times worse now, because he wasn’t longing for it anymore, and yet that was exactly what this brought – the threat of death. Severus couldn’t afford risking that now – mainly because his death would likely bring Remus’ and possibly even Teddy’s along with it. He would be **the cause of theirs** , even.

His scar pulsated as if a dagger had been dug into it and twisted around. The rhythm of its pangs corresponded atrociously well with the one of his blood – coursing faster now, boiling in his arteries.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

All Severus’ panic, however, was locked safely behind his Occlumency barrier, though the boy did not prove foolish enough to try to read him. _So it was a trap, after all. A way to collect more evidence than he already has._ Whatever the amount of condemning knowledge Draco already had on him, Severus wasn’t going to give him such an advantage.

“I am afraid I have no idea what you are on about, Mister Malfoy.” Severus replied, playing for time. Only a very minuscule piece of him was clinging to the hope that this was some sort of a misunderstanding.

“Oh, sir, I am rather sure you do.” Draco grinned, showing his pearly teeth. “Professor Lupin, the werewolf, the one that – I assume – lives behind that wall.” He pointed and Severus stifled a breath of relief when the direction proved incorrect.

So maybe, at least, he was going to be able to evacuate Remus without too much of a struggle. He did have a few plans for that, by now, but Merlin, he hadn’t expected he’d have to use one and certainly not because of Draco in particular.

Severus’ hand, as always in moments of danger, had curled around his wand and he was rather pleased to see that Draco had neither noticed nor mirrored that movement.

The actions he could take, however, were very limited – he couldn’t hurt him. He could, perhaps, modify the boy’s memory. For that, he’d first need to render him unconscious and still, with a well-placed Occlumency barrier, that might change nothing. Besides, he had no guarantee that Draco hadn’t already shared the secret as a precaution. After all, Draco had been aware that he was to face him, a wizard better than him, if – apparently – not slyer.

Severus raised his brow in an expression of astonishment. “I do not keep monsters in my school, but for the occasional exhibit in class, Mister Malfoy. But, pray tell, how have you come up with such a ridiculous accusation?” he asked softly. As painful as this was for Severus to admit, Draco was dealing the cards now, so now he was reduced to waiting for the boy to unfurl exactly just _how fucked_ they were.

“Sir, please hang the masquerade up.” Draco pleaded, still joyfully and meeting Severus’ piercing, scrutinising gaze, which couldn’t give him the access to his mind, no matter how much Snape wished for it. “It’s not exactly polite of you to call your flatmate a monster. You don’t need to do so to me, that’s guaranteed. And I didn’t say that to accuse you, sir—“ Draco assured, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “—This wasn’t supposed to be blackmail – though... I see how it could’ve sounded that way. I simply wanted to say that you can trust me, professor. I’ve known and kept the secret for quite a while now.”

Severus’ brow rose much higher now. The events of this afternoon were certainly not easy on him in terms of shock, but he found it harder to believe Draco’s current words than his previous ones.

Forgetting all guises, Draco lounged back in the chair. He even had the hubris to gesture for Snape to do the same. Severus did not – still leaning on the desktop and looking over at the boy, feeling like a bird of prey that had just been bitten by the turtle he’d lifted.

“So—“ Draco said, crossing his legs. “—I didn’t tell you any earlier, sir, because there was no use in that, but it’s probably better for you to know anyways. After all, I might not always be there to shield Teddy...”

So at least this enigma was now solved – it was the defences on the child’s mind that failed. It was one of the obvious options, but Severus had considered it implausible. He had put immense effort into guarding Teddy’s mind; but, clearly, he must have overlooked something. Sincerely curious, he asked, “How did you break through the barrier on the kid’s mind?”

 _How is it_ – Severus asked himself silently – _that even I cannot read the child, but the brat somehow managed to?_ He hadn’t even left a loophole in the willingness part for himself or Remus. Such loopholes were characterised by a very unwelcome feature – they could be taken advantage of.

“Oh – I didn’t do that—“ Draco responded, shrugging. “I didn’t do anything on purpose, in fact—“

A possible scenario he had, indeed, overlooked, hit Severus like a Bludger on the head. The child might have spoken earlier than he would have expected. Perhaps Draco was merely testing out a theory on where he’d learned his dad’s name. That, however, couldn’t explain the boy’s joke from before…

Without stalling, Draco continued, “The defences were only for hostile presence, weren’t they, sir?”

Severus answered automatically. “Any presence not invited willingly – as far as a kid can possess a will, at least. So they should have worked against accidental Legilimency, which, I assume, is how you got this out of him.”

“No – it wasn’t accidental.” Draco contradicted himself in a knowing tone, which peeved Severus. “—not on Teddy’s side at any rate. And that’s why it malfunctioned.” He cracked his fingers and once again began twirling the silver snake-ring. “—You know those blocks he’s been playing with at the manor, sir, right?”

The boy wasn’t awaiting his confirmation, but Severus nodded nevertheless.

“—It took him a while to figure out how they worked and he couldn’t get them to listen to him. He’s still younger than I was when I got them. He realised he needed help – he’s a really smart child, Teddy. So he stared at me, instinctively, I assume, and would let me in. I’m not a highly skilled Legilimens, by no means, but enough to read a willing mind, so I’d do it. The blocks listened to me much more than they did to him. Apparently, I do have a better concentration than a toddler—“ he smile with pretend-triumph and looked at Severus as if expecting him to reciprocate.

_The blocks! For Merlin’s sake... Something as little as that could have... I hate magical toys._

Severus’s lips remained pursed into a thin line, covering his gritted teeth. However, while Draco spoke, he slowly relaxed on the matter of the blackmail. The threat hadn’t passed, but, truly, the boy didn’t seem to have bad intentions, not towards Teddy at any rate. That alone was enough to stop him from glowering at Draco over the table. He now retreated into his chair to listen to what the Malfoy had to say. And that, whether due to the drugs or natural, repressed talkativeness, was proving to be a lot.

“—That’s how I got access, but just to very rapid snapshots of what he wanted me to see. That Weasleys’ shed and such. I never meant to spy on you, sir.” he declared, making Severus snort slightly with incredulity. “—No, really! When Teddy was emotional, I saw some things. Sometimes, father pushes his construction with the cane. That ruins it and Teddy’s upset, so he loses control of what he’s thinking about when he wants my help rebuilding. And so, I saw various clips of what calmed him down – like his parents or aunt Andromeda. A bit later, after you’ve taken him in, sir, the things he was thinking of changed a bit. It was you or a man sleeping – who I only caught a glimpse of at first and I wasn’t going to pry, of course, but he looked an awful lot like professor Lupin.”

“Of course—“ Severus said with irony, his patience finally drawing too thin to stop him from interjecting and mocking Draco’s words. “—‘You weren’t going to pry’, Mister Malfoy. You were solely going to use that as a leverage to coerce me into assisting you in a crime. And a stupid one, in that.”

“I told you already, sir—“ Draco replied and this time, although his gaze remained soft and groggy, his voice was quite firm. “—I do not intend to blackmail you. ‘Though, I’m not going to lie, it proved useful. From this I knew that you’re on the good side—“

 _How is it that only the ones that cannot fully identify with that side call it ‘the good one’?_ – Severus wondered, thinking about the contrast between him and Lupin in that matter. He now got his affirmation, at least, that Draco wasn’t solely betting that Severus’ ties to the rest his family would prevail over his loyalty to the Dark Lord.

“—and besides, how is it, that back when Potter and friends did it, it was all admiration and congratulations. But when I use his idea, improving it greatly in terms of security, I’d say, suddenly everyone thinks it’s no good?” Draco asked and in a moment coloured, perhaps realising just how childish he sounded. He restrained his emotions just as quickly, paling back into the typical alabaster, but Severus was more that unsettled by that display.

Nevertheless, he decided to spare him and refrained from commenting on that – after all, Malfoy boy still had the upper hand here. “Rather unlike my predecessor, I do not applaud every moronic, but well-intentioned idea my students come up with.” Severus said, suddenly grateful that he had kept all the portraits under the spell for this visit.

Even if he was to assume that the brat had good intentions – there still was a grave danger upon Remus, and himself, if his carelessness with Fidelius translated to other issues. Frankly, Severus was rather shocked the Dark Lord hadn’t gotten that out of Draco yet. Was his Occlumency truly good enough?

As if to assuage Severus that he wasn’t entirely an idiot, Draco went on again, “—Apart from the Fidelius that I’m planning to use, I have a few other secrecy measures in place. Thanks for the concept of the Oath of Silence, sir, by the way. But I obviously need this one before we actually start something. People don’t trust me all that much – can’t see why—“ He smiled acridly. “—So it took me some time to organise all this. It probably would have been even worse without Abbot, Bones and Bagnot—“

On those names, Severus trembled internally. _Do the moronic girls want to follow the footsteps of their mother and aunt, respectively? Does the boy want to join his brother in Azkaban? Are they all daft?!_

Although the times were incomparable, suddenly Severus felt forbearing towards Dumbledore’s failures in making the school live up to the name of ‘the safest place to be’. Sure, the man had his shortcomings in the matter (which Severus had learnt the hard way in his time as a student). Usually, however, those could be contributed to the kids being _absolutely brainless_. No amount of attention could fix that, but Albus’ occasional striking neglect certainly didn’t help it either.

“—who of course don’t know that I’m telling you this, sir, but never mind. All that is why I only lately got down to the location part – but given the current climate we should still have a lot of time, I think. I don’t know about me, to be honest… I’ve already been told that I’ll be marked after I finish this year.” He didn’t dare name his Lord in a speech that did nothing but defy him, which, if it wasn’t worrying, would have earned Severus’ scornful amusement. “—but the rest does have time. Until the war breaks out again, whenever that’ll be.”

Draco paused for a breath, then added, as his ultimate explanation, “I just thought the students shouldn’t be left defenceless in case something happens. And the classes don’t exactly fulfil that purpose if it’ll be professors we’ll be fighting, right?”

It had always seemed reasonable to presume that Draco would follow his parents’ footsteps like he’d been trained to. If he ever rebelled, that it would be in Narcissa’s way – cautiously and without too much conviction in it. Certainly, Severus hadn’t expected the boy to pull off his own Potter-like, saviour-of-the-world stunt. Yet, this was exactly that.

_At least he is a faint bit slyer than Potter, even if just as arrogant._

Severus searched for words that could correctly capture the mixture between anger, worry and reluctant pride he was feeling about Draco. His vocabulary, while vast, proved deficient.

Silence fell. For a moment, it was undisturbed as the two of them considered each other; Draco – with a Lucius’ smile of feigned confidence stuck to his lips and Severus – with a deadpan expression.

Finally, Severus sighed exasperatedly. He did not believe his own stupidity in falling for all this, but he encouraged the boy to tell him more – from the measures he’d taken, through the people he was involving, apart from the three already mentioned, to the plans he had for his ‘ _enterprise’_. Draco accepted his suggestions and warnings with uncharacteristic humility, possibly because Severus gave them as the conditions for his aid.

Draco even had an official explanation for the disappearance of a corridor already prepared. They chose the next day as the one Severus would cast the Fidelius on, with Draco as the secret keeper. It was perhaps a little inconvenient due to the Full Moon (and Teddy needing more of Severus’ attention). However, a weekend was the best time for it and on the next one, both of them would be busy because of the approaching Quidditch Match.

In the end, Draco managed to allay his doubts about his intelligence, but not the ones about how he was riding for a fall. Severus had no trouble envisioning their Lord’s laugh over their two corpses, or, perhaps, solely over the shorter, blond one.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was early October when Draco first asked her to practise spells with him. Duelling was against the school rules, which he of all people shouldn’t have encouraged her to break. Nevertheless, Astoria just couldn’t refuse him.

“If you won’t dock points from me for this one, mister Head Boy.” she told him playfully and Draco sealed that promise with a kiss.

He led her to a room on 7th floor whose door only appeared at their third try of entering. Back when she was in 3rd year she heard gossip about a secret room, which served to its guests wishes and was located somewhere high in the castle. She guessed that was it, but didn’t ask, figuring that Draco must have had a reason not to tell her.

Astoria had never been too great at D.A.D.A., nor was she at D.A. themselves, now that they were studying them. Because of that, she had a suspicion that on Draco’s side this was just an excuse to spend more time with her, not a sincere wish to hone his skills.

To her shock, the room was actually prepared for duelling.

It was furnished with objects to practice on and its floors and walls were covered with amortising materials. Astoria was only a bit disappointed, though less so after she’d laid her eyes on the sitting area. There, huddled in the corner around a fireplace, stood a blue sofa filled with fluffy pillows; a similarly coloured fleecy carpet lay underneath it. A tall and wide bookcase separated that part from the rest of the room.

She later discovered that the bookcase was filled with many of her favourite books. Draco must have taken notice of them back when he visited their house for the first time in August. Next to those Draco’s picks, both the recreational and magictific ones, packed the shelves.

As it turned out, Draco really did have a sparring in mind – one with real jinxes and curses (though he seemed to miss her often, whenever she failed to counter). However, the sofa wasn’t there for nothing either. It was certainly a better place to spend time in than the lately over-crowded library, in which not even holding hands could pass unnoticed. Not to mention the Common or the cramped broom cupboards scattered around the castle.

Sometimes, they were simply laying on the sofa reading, tired after practising. Astoria, with her head against Draco’s chest and trying to limit poking him with the cover of a book. Draco had an awful habit while reading – he squirmed in place or stretched at random moments, pulling their blanket up from Astoria’s feet. Thankfully, he also had a sweet one, which made up for that – of mindlessly brushing his fingers through her hair while he read.

Astoria liked the quiet of the room – she’d trade a lot for either her dormitory or the Slytherin Common to be so peaceful and welcoming. Still, she was only coming there with Draco. She probably could’ve asked him for instructions to get there, but on her own it wouldn’t be half as fun.

This made her all the more unhappy, when, on the weekend before Hallowe’en, Draco brought three other people with them. She didn’t know either of them and, as far as she was concerned – they weren’t welcome there. Two of them were Hufflepuff girls from his year, one was a Ravenclaw boy, a year older than Astoria. All of them shared one characteristic –the word-shaped scars on their hands, in various stages of healing.

Only after they were all inside the room, having come in separately, did Draco introduce her to the trio. Astoria had to exercise her self-restraint not to look huffy in their presence – it was him she was angry with, not them.

 _Our_ sofa had been replaced with a cabinet of Dark Detectors. Above the fireplace – a Foe Glass loomed, instead of the flowery wall-hanging that had been there before.

Soon, Draco began laying out his plans – of an exam-preparations club, which would meet up in a free classroom, lock it and travel to their current location to in order to do slightly more illicit stuff. He didn’t mention Potter, but the list he’d given them all (including a begrudging Astoria) to sign, and which he had signed himself, had a lightning bolt drawn on it. Ever since that day, he kept the list with him at all times, shrunken with a charm and hidden inside his ring.

As he revealed his schemes, Astoria’s annoyance only grew – Draco hadn’t said a thing to her about them earlier.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, she knew that much, but he didn’t trust anyone else – even that new trio. He’d forced them to sign the list already, but when they were leaving, with their backs turned to him, he placed some spell upon them or good measure. Astoria saw his wand’s movement. She knew how interested he was in nonverbal casting and trigger-induced jinxes, so it wasn’t all that hard to deduce what he had just done.

Not so long ago, Draco had started to teach her that one intimidating skill of his – not showing others what he was thinking. Astoria wasn’t very proficient in that yet, which could have been why he kept his secrets from her so scrupulously.

He was “telling her only what she needed to know just to protect her”, as he said when she confronted him on his reticence.

As if she wasn’t fed up with everyone around her (in which Draco, actually, was often an admirable exception) treating her like a fragile fairy’s wing, ready to turn to dust upon the slightest touch, because of her health!

She called him out on his bullshit and didn’t speak to him until the Hallowe’en party in the Slytherin Common Room.

On that Monday, he managed to successfully apologise to her and so they began organising the club. She became a sort of a mediator even. People, including those three already involved, reciprocated Draco’s suspiciousness. Meanwhile, she, allegedly “had a smile that invites confidence”, as the girl with strawberry blonde plait said on that first day.

Soon, Christmas came, and Draco, who had taken to tinkering with Portkeys quite a lot, gave her one before they separated onto their ways home. Unlike herself, he was already old enough to have a Portkey legally registered in his name. This one lead straight to his part of the Malfoy Manor.

Astoria was already invited for the holidays themselves, but, using the Portkey, she visited Draco practically every day of the break. It seemed that nobody in the house had any idea about this connection. She didn’t exactly mind that much – it meant they wouldn’t be interrupted by his unawares parents at any point.

Draco had a little treat waiting for them in his library, for spell practice – a Boggart. Astoria, however, had recently had an encounter with the creature, when she was looking for an easel in the attic with her father. Draco, on the other hand, hadn’t had an occasion to face one in years, so she let him handle it.

She was wandering between the bookcases, looking for the books from their collection at school, when Draco opened his grandfather’s cabinet. The rattling noise stopped, replaced with a loud crack.

A couple of seconds passed by and Astoria did not hear a laugh coming from over there. _What’s he waiting for? Is he trying to cast it nonverbal, maybe?_ – she wondered, paging through an Elizabethan drama. It told the story of a witch hopelessly in love with a muggle, who inhabited a village in which her mother had been ‘burned’ countless of times. She had a hunch it did not end well for either of the lovers…

–CRACK–

Still, no sound came from Draco – not the incantation, a chuckle or even a scream of terror. Therefore, Astoria hurried past the bookcases to check up on him. She emerged from behind them to another –CRACK– and only caught a glimpse of the Boggart before it morphed again. It was a black-clad figure, who, she was afraid, was the Dark Lord Himself.

Quickly, it turned into a peacock dressed in a wizard hat, so Draco was apparently trying to fight it off. He was standing with his back to her and his wand was drawn, but he wasn’t laughing, and the spell turned out not to be powerful enough, so the bird almost instantly changed back into...

Into two bodies, stretched out on the floor, dead, but without any wounds – _the killing curse_ – both blonde women, one rather taller and older than the other one, the one with a green bow holding her hair...

 _Merlin – that’s me dead what he’s seeing!_ – Astoria realised with a peculiar mix of horror and affection in her gut, readying her wand.

When the Boggart noticed her coming to a halt beside Draco, another loud –CRACK– tore the air. The creature became a grave, but she didn’t have the time to read the names on it – only noted that there were four (not three, as she would have expected) – before she shouted out the spell.

“Riddiculus!”

The Boggart obediently transformed into a stone with human features, looking ludicrous against the marble. It was an illustration of a human-transfiguration gone wrong, but that, unlike death, could usually be fixed. Astoria laughed, a bright, (“melodious” Draco called it) giggle, causing the defeated Boggart to dissipate.

Draco was still standing next to her, motionless apart from having lowered his hand, still pointed at the cabinet. She took a step towards him and put her hand on his arm. He shuddered, but didn’t shake it off.

“Merlin, you must think I’m weak now.” Draco sighed, sheathing his wand. “Thanks, though.”

_Of course he’s gonna go around thinking that. Just because he wasn’t able to tackle it on his own, which I’m probably supposed to find ‘pathetic’... Eh boys..._

“You’re welcome. And I don’t.” she asserted and, using the moment he was giving her a raised-eyebrow glance, kissed him on the cheek.

He coloured slightly, a bright rose pink she was sure her own skin would mirror soon, and a faint smile dawned onto his face. “If you say so.”

She could only surmise that his first Boggart, the one she hadn’t seen, was something equally awful to the last two ones. Thus, truly, she had no idea why Draco would be so ashamed of his reaction, especially considering that he was experimenting.

The day after that, when they met again (and again with only the house-elves, who made their dinner, in on the secret), Astoria was discombobulated. That was because Draco, suddenly, had longer hair.

She thought he looked odd at first, though of course their awkward length was the main cause of that – they’ve already passed his ears, but hadn’t even reached the chin yet. He asked her, belatedly, if she was “okay with that”. For a response, on the Christmas Morning, Astoria brought him a set of hair ties, a hairpin and a black ribbon. She packed them all neatly, leaving them by Draco’s bedside while he was still sleeping.

 _You’ll look a lot like your dad, but whatever. Of course I’m okay with that, as long as you are._ What she wasn’t okay with, however, was how she had a sinking feeling that it was the first Boggart that caused it.

After all, it was Draco who’d told her, even if with a bit of mockery in his seriousness, “A wise man once told me, you should face your fears with your chin up and your wand drawn.” and this seemed like the embodiment of that idea.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was with surprise that Severus noted he wanted to talk the matter through with Lupin immediately after the inane brat left his office. However, that had to wait – Draco took more of his time than he had expected. Therefore, now Severus had to go prepare Remus his Wolfsbane and was rather in a hurry.

Lupin was busy with the kid – currently reading him the book on birds. Having correctly interpreted the determined look on Severus’ face, he greeted him only with a nod and a small smile.

When, after about twenty minutes of the final phase of brewing Severus emerged from the laboratory with a steaming goblet, Remus was already awaiting him. He was sitting by the table, tapping his fingers and with the silent question he’d been dying to ask painted on his features.

Severus recounted Draco’s visit to him in detail, though he forgot to include one key information that had been revealed to him that afternoon. Perhaps because his memory was deteriorating. Perhaps because it was a day before Full Moon and he was aware that Remus, naturally agitated, would have trouble falling asleep without any external assistance. Who knew; Severus, certainly, didn’t.

His was ascertained in his decision by Remus’ words on Draco’s efforts to form something resembling the D.A. at the school again. “I mean, I’m amazed that he’s trying to do something – but at the same time, he’s still a Malfoy, isn’t he? And, on top of that – himself – so a proud, whimsical, pureblood boy, who’s able to understand plots and servility, but I’d doubt about friendship, for example.” Remus reasoned, in a strikingly mellow way considering his accusations. “You were saying he rebels against Lucius a lot… Well… what if it’s him he’s against, not the Dark Lord? I mean, surely, it would be hard to squirm one’s way out of that one, but—“

“—but some have done it.” Severus completed, well aware that it was him, who Remus had in mind.

Lupin didn’t know the precise explanation he’d given his Lord those few years ago, when returning to his service, or the amount of pain he was under then. However, he doubtlessly had his surmises and he was surprisingly good at guessing. Sadly, he had to agree with Remus – Draco would probably be able to pull off a similar stunt if he was determined enough and actually had something to offer his Lord in return for his forgiveness. Severus had a hunch he and Lupin would be that ‘something’ in this case.

“—yes, exactly.” Remus went on. “So what if it was power he’s after? If it’s vows and hexes binding them, then that group of his won’t have much say… They’ll probably do whatever he tells them to. And he’s felt power now, real power, not one of terrorizing younger students in the school corridors. What gives you the certainty he won’t throw you under the hippogriff’s hooves, along with the ‘trust’ he places in you—“ Remus said, making the quotation marks in the air with an unfittingly acerbic expression on his face. “—if he’s apparently willing to do so with his father?”

“And you had been his teacher for like – two terms, 6 years ago?”

“Well… I’m not saying I know him better than you do—“

“No, you managed to be rather accurate.” Severus admitted, though feeling the bitter taste of an overpowering argument shedding over his tongue. “But I trust him.”

That, though followed with a measuring glance of the wide caramel eyes, seemed to have convinced Remus for now, at least enough so that a “We’ll see what this leads to.” was their final, mutual conclusion. It wasn’t like either of them could do much in this damned pitfall.

Severus deemed the evidence proving Draco’s good intentions even more disconcerting than a lack of it – for him it certainly had been.

For now, however, Lupin seemed assuaged. Perhaps he wasn’t perhaps as naive as Severus had previously thought for the longest of times, but he was still more likely to sway towards the idea that (future-)Death-Eaters could be good-natured than Severus was.

 _Perhaps because he had not met enough of those._ – Severus remarked internally. _Pity the fools who have not seen, but believed._

The worst part, however, was that the most firm column supporting Severus’ trust in Draco was belief too.

\---

“Severus – please.”

Hate, a surge of it like lighting through the permanently gloomy night of his mind. It wasn’t necessary to cast the spell ( _like Remus would note... Wait who now?!),_ just the will would be sufficient, but it was helpful.

Severus hated him, oh, Salazar and all the founders, did he hate him.

He hated him with all his heart in that moment, exactly because he respected and valued him, perhaps even loved him in some misguidedly grandson-like way... And this loathsome, shrivelled daemon of a man ordered him to kill him, knowing that.

_You schemer, you cold fucking chess-player, trading out people’s souls, lives and fates like it is your choice to make. You fool, who could have spared this to both of us if not for that ring. You, who hadn’t batted an eye to me almost dying in your school, who let two generations of Death Eaters grow right under your ‘watchfully’ blind eyes, who raised Lily’s son for slaughter, who failed to save her – you – you – you..._

Explosion of emerald green.

It had all been a matter of seconds.

The old man was falling, permanent mildly surprised expression on his worn features. He’d take it to the grave with him and Severus would too – emblazed into his skull as a memory.

But now, Severus was falling too.

_Odd. Yet not terrifying._

The landing was painful, though not as much as he would have expected it to be. He felt his skull crack. Based on that noise alone, it wasn’t just blood that began seeping down onto his nape and soaking into the dry grass on the ground.

The terrifying part was that with all that, he still retained his consciousness. Shreds of it, at least, because as he heard the maniacal cackle above him, he began to highly doubt his senses.

It was Black – and she had not been in the school with them, but, on top of that – this wasn’t just a woman’s laugh.

No, it was joined by another, just as rambunctious and just as derisive, only this one was deeper and lower – a man’s laugh. If he needed any further proof, once the main outburst of mirth died down, that voice, still trembling with chuckles, called out to him, down from the balcony of the Tower. “Snivellus! Why don’t you join us up here?”

Severus couldn’t look up, but he knew that Sirius Black was brandishing his wand.

_But Black was just a prat, he would never become one of ~~them~~ ~~us,~~ fuck, Albus had said._

Bellatrix cackled. “In heeere—“ she cooed and it sounded rather a lot like, “In heeell.”

Severus didn’t understand a single thing of it all, but he had been hurt in the head rather hard. With his brain flitting from his skull, it wasn’t all too surprising that he didn’t.

Suddenly, the Blacks were standing over him and, frankly, neither of them resembled themselves at all. They looked much more like gaunt, long-haired hybrids between humans and wolves, bringing Sphinxes to mind, though grey and two-legged. In a blink, their drawn wands, held between long, dark claws, emitted a blinding mix of colours in an eruption of mingled spells.

Whatever it was they had cast, it gave him the impression of being shattered into pieces. Each of the minuscule scraps of his self – _soul, perhaps_ – was being torn away, with torturous, all-pervading pain accompanying the sensation. Simultaneously, he felt like he was falling again, somewhere down into the ground.

“Oi!” yelped Lupin, when Severus unwittingly hit him with his arm. The noise of that yell pulled him out of the nightmare. Severus realised he’d had one and instantly blamed it on Draco’s multiple revelations of the day.

He dearly hoped he had not woken Remus up now – the werewolf needed sleep. As if responding to his thoughts, the man mumbled sleepily, “It’s fine – it’s alright—“

_He is barely awake, so soon to the Moon, and he is consoling me. Goddamned Lupin..._

Remus didn’t sound too conscious, fortunately, and immediately he yawned, possibly falling back asleep. Before he did, however, he turned around, somewhere behind Severus’ back and flung his arm over to the side. It landed on Severus’ chest with a rustle of the two covers. Surrounded by all the darkness, Remus’ skin looked pale and so did the greyed pink of his scars peeking from underneath the unbuttoned, rolled up sleeve. Even through the fabric, warmth radiated from _the damned werewolf_ , as he almost immobilised Severus in the embrace.

“All alright—“ Remus repeated, in the same barely present, purr-like voice, as he pulled him closer to himself. His breath as he spoke moved the hairs resting on Severus’ neck.

Now Severus was shattered into pieces again and it was no less painful, though much more insubstantial. He fell asleep wondering how on Earth was he going to get out of that Devil Snare-like grip in the morning and, though he was reluctant to admit that to himself, revelling in the closeness.

And Remus, of course, had absolutely no idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a person with headphones addiction, I present to you this fic's playlist:  
>  1) “Only if for a Night” by Florence + the Machine  
>  2) “Drive” by Halsey (totally because of "would it really kill you if we kissed")  
>  3) “hostage” by Billie Eillish  
>  4) “You’re the Only Good Thing In My Life” by Cigarettes After Sex  
>  5) “broken” by lovelytheband  
>  6) “Take Care” by Florence + the Machine  
>  7) “Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby” by Cigarettes After Sex  
>  8) “I Walk The Line” by Halsey (I don’t mind the original either)  
>  9) “Remain Nameless” by Florence + the Machine  
>  10) “The War is Over” by Cage the Elephant  
>  11) “Affection” by Cigarettes After Sex  
>  12) “California” by Lana del Rey  
>  13) “Never Let me Go” by Florence + the Machine  
>  Honourable mentions are "Make up your mind" (by F+M) and "Touch" (by Daughter), but they didn't fit the vibe as much. 
> 
> Next Thursday I've got my DL exam (sadly it's like 4th attempt, but hopefully I won't crash or anything :/). Therefore, the next chapter won't come out then. However! For once this means I’ll publish earlier - I will probably aim for Wednesday. 


	17. The Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning:** grief.  
>  Teddy POV is back, finally! Also: welcome to the repressed feelings bonanza. 

Severus had waited for the Full Moon to pass before telling him about what happened just before it. If that didn’t say he considered him threatening during, then Remus didn’t know what did.

When Severus did finally tell him, he threw the news at him offhandedly during the breakfast. At least he waited until Remus had swallowed the spoon of oatmeal, so as not to shock him into choking. Keeping in mind that Severus must have been afraid to tell him earlier, Remus mobilised his self-control and didn’t snap about the delay. This definitely was much easier after the Moon than it would have been earlier. Still, it hurt him unreasonably deeply that Severus had taken such a precaution.

This news was, of course, the missing answer to why Severus’ trust in young Malfoy was so unwavering.

Drained by the transformation (the Wolfsbane always helped, but it didn’t change the tenacity of his tiredness, only its length), Remus didn’t even have the energy to be properly in shock. His meek, “Did he?” to Severus’ “Draco Malfoy has found out about the fact of your continued existence.” wasn’t at all outraged. He succeeded at not making it sound peeved either. In fact, to his own ears it sounded defeated. Despite all the motivation he’d lately acquired due to hope, Remus was catching himself sounding like that more and more.

_Maybe the fact that I’m catching myself is a good sign, though._

Whatever it did actually convey though tone, it caused Severus to stay for a longer while after the meal to explain everything to him in detail. He even told Remus **how** Draco came into possession of that knowledge, adding some more details on the boy’s rebelliousness. He had omitted them before, possibly considering them too private. Yet, he did finally share them, because Remus seemed worried. This disproved his former theory on the motivations of Severus’ silence. It was enough for the doubts to scuttle into the back of Remus’ mind and not stick out of there for most of the time.

 _He cares. He cares, about me, specifically – that I don’t obsess over it and worry._ Remus smiled upon the realisation.

\---

On the 7th of February 1999 Teddy _~~Lupin~~ Prince (it fits him neatly, actually)_, took his first independent walk. It was a whole little ramble – counting thirty something steps through the width of the kitchen, from Frankie’s to Remus’ arms.

It was, therefore, a very happy occasion.

Remus wished that the tears he felt gathering in his eyes were ones of joy. However, when he looked at the florid face of his son and tousled his hair, rapidly changing from pink through dark blond (like Remus’) to blue, he had to admit they weren’t.

“There goes the Little One!” Frankie exclaimed, beaming.

Somewhere in the background Severus slow-clapped, as if unimpressed by the kid’s achievement. Still, Remus was convinced he’d catch him smiling if he turned towards him now. He didn’t, however, because that would show his own face, which, at that moment, he preferred to hide.

Teddy looked at him. The wisdom of a toddler twinkled in his dark eyes, in colour more like Severus’ than Tonks’, though not downturned like his. He wiped dad’s cheek with his small hand before Remus wrapped him in a hug and lifted him.

Maybe it made him a horrible father, but Remus was still barely able to face Teddy when he was imitating Dora. Every time he had to, he felt something being ripped out of his chest again, right where the metaphorical scarring over his heart had almost healed. Teddy’s head, now resting against his chest, alleviated some of that pain. What of it survived that balm, however, squeezed tears out of Remus, forcing him to turn away from everyone else. He couldn’t just leave the room now, not without attracting unwanted attention to himself. Therefore, he burrowed his face against Teddy, though careful not to wet the kid’s owl-filled onesie.

Not for the first time, his efforts to remain unnoticed in his aching turned out futile.

This time Remus hadn’t even gotten up from the crouch, before he heard the loud clinking of cups that pre-empted Severus’ preparing him tea. This had been his custom even back when his caring could in no way have been attributed to anything but annoyed pity. It was Remus’ at least 5th pity-tea, though he wasn’t keeping exact count. He was sure Severus was, though, though he never rubbed it in his nose. In fact, that was one of the most compassionate gestures in his repertoire.

Remus was standing with his back to the counter and held Teddy in his embrace until the toddler started squirming out of it, happy to practice walking some more. Having set Teddy onto the floor again, Remus kept squatting on his level for a moment. He observed as the kid trotted, wobbling just a tad, back towards the house elf. Teddy’s hair was still flashing with colours. Frankie awaited him with outstretched arms and Teddy was babbling unintelligibly to her, probably boasting about his success.

Pride and joy filled Remus to the very ridges of his heart. At the same time, there was the cloud that was there to stay forever, the one of mourning, emptiness and of painful awareness.

A tap on the back pulled him out of the stream of his thoughts; he hesitated before turning around.

_But Severus has seen me crying already, either way. And he does seem to actually care, doesn’t he?_

Remus stifled his own qualms well enough to grab Severus’ hand for support to stand back up. He didn’t need to do that, maybe even – shouldn’t have done it, considering how Severus twitched under his touch. However, he really needed comfort in that moment and, although he appreciated the meaning behind the tea, that was not his personal definition of solacing.

Having straightened, he released Severus’ hand and for a short moment, they stood facing each other. Remus was fruitlessly trying to stem the trickles leaking out of his eyes. Severus, meanwhile, was seemingly glued to the spot, frozen about a foot to Remus. Surprisingly, the raised-brow look on his face was definitely an enquiring, not a condemning, one.

“I shouldn’t be the one to witness Teddy walk for the first time.” Remus blurted out finally. His voice was calm, though quieter than the usual. Only in his mind it trembled like a muggle washing machine turned on with something heavy inside.

Whether interpreting his words or his previous gesture correctly, Severus raised his hand and gingerly put it on Remus’ back. With the air of someone who had read about the motion but had little practice in it, Severus comforted him through patting. In the corner of his eye, Remus was warily surveying the expression on his face. There was no wince, just the complete stillness of features, calling to mind a statue brought to life with a spell. He felt the light weight of Severus’ hand lift itself, to then land between his shoulder blades again. His movement had this characteristic carefulness to it, one better fit for handling expensive laboratory equipment than people. As far as Remus could infer his intentions from his behaviour, however, Severus was now ushering him towards himself.

Tentatively, Remus closed the gap between them and nestled up to him, pressing his face to the crook of his neck. Cautious not to irritate the scar underneath Severus’ collar, he chose the left side. He put his arms around Severus’ back and savoured his closeness for a moment, trying his best not to think. Even after having regained some of his composure, he didn’t pull away, thankful that neither did Severus.

A part of Remus wanted to remain silent, but the thoughts in his head were seeping down to his throat, threatening to drown him. Therefore, Remus decided to speak. He knew Severus would understand him, though there was a risk he wouldn’t **let on** that he did.

“It shouldn’t have been me who survived the battle.” Remus said. Instantly, he wondered how was it that a sentence so full of pain didn’t turn to stone in the air, but flew lightly from his lips. When it was just a thought, it had felt a lot heavier. “She should have. I told her to stay, but she didn’t listen. And now it’s me, not her, who’s seeing him walk, who’ll see him turn a year old—and I can’t even be sure I’ll be there up till he grows up – and she would have been able to be...”

Severus put his other arm over Remus’ back, so that his left hand was curled around Lupin’s bicep, but apart from that, he was proving his likeness to a sculpture – unmoving and taking barely perceptible, shallow breaths. Remus didn’t mind. In all honesty, it was easier to talk to a statue, in a way. _And if said statue radiates the calm he currently does, all the better._

“She found me on the battlefield, you know?” Remus resumed, his chin rubbing against the cloth of Severus’ robe as he spoke. “Well – you probably do – based on the location of the bodies—“ he amended with a bitter chuckle. “—but she did that early enough in the strife for us to even greet... I know she was a warrior, but I think she wouldn’t have come if I weren’t there…” His treacherous voice was no longer as tranquil as he was trying to force it to be. “She would be alive now if she hadn’t come, but she was so stubborn—“ _I adored that trait of hers and it killed her..._ Remus took a deep, ragged breath, but it did little to stabilise his voice.

“—I saw her die. I saw the gleam…” There it was, the first gasp-like breath, presaging another wave of weeping he had to wait through. Thankfully, it wasn’t half as violent as had happened to him twice – once over the Map, then, the first time Teddy chose the bubble-gum pink out of nowhere. Still, although the outburst was softer, it was hard to get it under control. Remus tried to stamp it down, but after he said, “—I heard Bellatrix cackle with triumph. Then – Dora dropped to the ground... I wasn’t even able to avenge her, because I got attacked myself—“ he had to break off.

Maybe it was the recollection of powerlessness that fuelled his current one, but Remus failed to staunch the tears burning the insides of his tightly shut eyelids. They poured down in a weak stream. Severus didn’t edge away, even though Remus was making the shoulder of his robe turn an even deeper shade of black. He was definitely aware of that, however, because the grip of his hand on Remus’ arm tightened, then softened again a few times in a row, adjusted to the rhythm of the spasms of crying that wrecked through Lupin.

They spent a long while like that, standing in an embrace.

Severus may have forgotten that he’d had plans to leave with Teddy for a walk. Remus wasn’t going to remind him now, occupied by absorbing the peacefulness off him. Currently, his own wasn’t sufficient for him.

Remus barely registered that Severus had meanwhile sent Frankie away with a wave of his hand and the crowing ceased. Teddy was most likely with her in his room – the one adjacent to the transformation-room. That room was going to become Teddy’s bedroom very soon, so he had to gradually get used to it. It had been hidden before, because of course Severus wouldn’t have shown or told Lupin anything until “it was necessary for him to know”. _Well, current Severus maybe would have._ After all, Remus was given the notice on this about a month in advance, which was a shocking progress.

When he had curbed his mournfulness, Remus lifted his head slightly and went on, now more steadily, though with the slight soreness of throat that came from crying. It was as if the tears had drained the water from every part of him, not only his eyes, which now that he’d opened them were stinging lightly. “It’s just… I know it’s useless… And I know I’m contradicting myself again, with dwelling on the past—“ Remus admitted, staring at the Thestral’s painting over Severus’ shoulder. The horse was currently lunging to catch a robin sitting down on a branch of the nearby tree. “—But I’ll never shake off the feeling that it was her who should have lived, not me. And that she would’ve, if it hadn’t been for me...” he said, hoarsely, and Severus gave him another pat on the back, less stiffly this time.

“—Maybe I was right to tell her to leave it, to find someone who she’d have a future with, in the first place.” Deep down, Remus was aware this wasn’t the truth. The little time they had was one of the happiest in his life and he wouldn’t have traded it for anything. But then again – it was selfish of him to think that, especially considering what it had brought on. “—Because I did, you know, back when it started. There’s no her anymore and I still stand by that.” Again, his voice wavered, jumping into wail-like tones no matter how much he tried to restrain it, and again the grip on his arm tightened when he drew a whizzing breath.

Remus paused for a moment to collect himself. Severus didn’t use the break to say anything – still a mute, breathing column of black, clad in cotton that creased tenderly against Remus’ cheek. _Am I not being selfish now, again? Throwing my sorrows onto someone who’s already burdened enough? Am I not using Severus, in a way?_ – Remus asked himself.

He wasn’t even sure why he was saying all those things out loud. Or – since when he was unable to deal with grief on his own.

 _Since you don’t have to, because you’re not on your own_ – an inner voice prompted, hopefully.

On the other hand, Severus, of all people, could be trusted with placing emotional borders where he needed them, Remus knew that much.

Reassured by Severus’ still-not drawing away, the moment Remus regained his voice, he went on. “—She was so young – had her whole life before her and she wasted it on me. Just another thing that’s so unfair. That it’s me, the creature, the old man, that’s left – and, **if** I somehow live through to it, it’ll be me to watch Teddy grow up…” He was repeating himself, he realised that, but the words were still flowing out of him in an effortless and unstoppable current, somewhat like tears did. “Me, who he’ll have to be ashamed for, for what I am. Maybe more even for being one of the last – because it makes me a coward in a way, doesn’t it? And all because she wasn’t ashamed...”

“Nymphadora was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions, poor as her choice might have seemed to some. I doubt she would think she had wasted anything.” Severus cut in, his chin pecking Remus’ shoulder until he tilted his head back a bit. His voice was louder than Remus’ had been and goblin-steel firm. “And when you rendered an auror impotent for a few months, it was the misfortune of being a werewolf you were wallowing in, then?” he inquired.

Remus so hadn’t expected him to break his silence, that he was now flabbergasted enough not to answer, but Severus wasn’t actually waiting for him to.

“—Do your child a favour and never ‘wallow’ around him. He will already be miserable enough, in the current circumstances.” Severus continued, shifting as if he wanted to take a step back, possibly to look straight at Remus. He gave up on it, resigned to speaking off into the distance. “And you are an idiot and occasionally a whiner, Remus, but not a complete wet. And it’s certainly not ‘not dying’ that makes you one, either.”

When sober and speaking, he was exactly as terrible at consoling as Remus had expected. _And gods, should he come with a dictionary!_ Since, if Remus wasn’t entirely lost in interpretation, he had just been complimented.

This odd comforting tactic did work a tad. Remus was now amused by Severus’ ineptness at not being mean, rather than still focused on brooding. Severus had good intentions, if his hand still resting on Lupin’s back proved anything. Keeping that in mind, Remus managed not to get irritated by anything he’d just heard. _Maybe he’s right, though. In quite a similar way Dora was. And Harry! Though that he’d probably find more offensive than I do his epithets..._

Severus, continuing his quest of cheering him up (now definitely wittingly), added, finally getting out of the hug, “And besides, Lupin, watch who you are calling old – we are the same age. I am even slightly older than you, I believe.”

“Oh, excuse me then.” Remus smiled with mock-apology, putting his now free hands in his pockets. “Are you though? Which month?” he asked, suddenly realising he didn’t know something as basic as birthday about him. The Order members usually expressed their good wishes to each other on such occasions, but Severus never participated in such things, private to the point where Remus sincerely had no idea.

“January. A considerable head start over anyone else in that matter, I would say, but two months and a day to you.”

That was quite a specific answer, so naturally Remus asked, “And how do you know that?”

“I have a great memory.” Severus shrugged.

“Clearly, but when did you pick that up?” Remus raised his brow. “Probably not when we were co-workers, because that was just a single owl… But then – overheard at Grimmauld somehow, though wouldn’t acknowledge it?” he wondered, amused.

“You hung around a pack of very loud, conspicuous people at school, Lupin. The school which I, too, had the misfortune of attending.” Severus explained with a flourish of hand that indicated the walls around them.

“Oh – so then? – did you really?!” Remus leaned back in surprise. “Goodness gracious! I’m shocked it took you five years to figure out I was a werewolf if this was the level of attention you were paying us, Severus.” Remus felt a note of mischievousness sneak its way into his voice. “Or me—“ he added, as something that could probably be named ‘a simper’ bloomed onto his face.

“Now there, Remus—“ Severus drawled, knitting his brows, “—do not get above yourself. I know Potter’s, Black’s, and even Wormtail’s ones as well. And, believe me, I hadn’t intended to engrave that knowledge into my mind any more than I intended to ever be dealing with any of you arseholes back then.”

“—De mortuis nil nisi bonum, Severus.” Remus admonished automatically, even though that, of course, didn’t include the rat for him. As for the rest, however, it was always a whole other thing when Remus said – or thought it – than when Severus did. Although, actually, now that he analysed it, there wasn’t as much bile in the mention as the last time it happened.

Predictably, Severus understood Latin well. “Are you sure that’s the whole aphorism?” he doubted, winking.

“—Okay… Maybe unless they were complete bastards to you at school.” Remus conceded, hoping that this wouldn’t lead to Severus’ loathing resurfacing. “—though I’m not sure how you say ‘bastard’ in Latin.”

“’Spurius’—“ Severus obliged with a smirk. “—But I was too preoccupied with the whole awful lot of you, I admit. Had my reasons for that.”

Remus had spent an indecent amount of time thinking about that time of their lives, lately. Due to that, he was positive he had those reasons accurately pinned down by now – they probably went along the lines of ‘the fear of you’, ‘later – hate’ and ‘Lily Evans’. That last one was the little missing piece to a part of the moving puzzle that Severus was. Remus was fairly sure of all that, though he would never admit out loud to having conjectured it. Although he sometimes cultivated his nosiness around Severus, he knew when to keep silent.

Remus wasn’t expecting him to name any of them now either. Thus, he was mystified when Severus added, “You – by definition at least as much of a freak as myself due to what I was suspecting – having friends, and in that, those puffed up two, in particular – being one of those reasons.” His tone was just as facetious as a second ago. “Meanwhile I, at best, had allies or patrons. Once I lost **her** , at least.” His eyes darkened upon the last sentence, but the voice remained nonchalant.

The beauty of their shared skeletons in the not-entirely-shared closet, was that Severus didn’t even have to name any names for Remus to understand who he was referring to. The ugliness, however, lay in how Remus knew exactly what event had led to Severus ‘losing Lily’ at school and what came after it. He now had it playing out before the eyes of his memory. It was simultaneously an enthralling experience to hear him acknowledge things like that, (because, as small as they could seem, they meant the trust wasn’t just one-way) and a painful one, because they reawakened Remus’ regrets.

 _Now I’m getting a feel of why he was so shocked to hear I dwell on the past willingly... Because guilt makes it all a lot more bitter when you’re dragged out of denial about it, doesn’t it?_ Yet, although Remus felt incredibly guilty for his passiveness back then and agreed with Severus’ words on them four being bastards, he knew the man didn’t have the full picture. He wasn’t exactly sure how it turned out that way, but he caught himself talking about all of it, out of the sudden, and Severus didn’t even disregard his words as cheap excuses.

Before long, the two of them were sitting in the library, with the tea from before warmed with a spell, and talking. For once – it was not about the terrifying ‘now’, but the only occasionally saddening ‘in the past’. Severus still rather scrupulously refrained from speaking too much, but he wasn’t too defended either. Remus, on his side, found himself once again atypically open. Maybe it was the need to balance Severus’ silences or maybe just him as person…

School was, expectedly, a prominent mention in their conversation. They had a silent agreement not to dig into the issue of the Marauders too much, since the two of them remembered most of their pranks differently. However, they discovered having other, shared memories worth revisiting and house-specific anecdotes worth exchanging.

That Arithmancy teacher in 4th grade, for example... He was a little too interested in the female students and ended up resigning in June, due to waking up on an empty Quidditch pitch with a series of mysterious injuries. All students grades 3 and higher were interrogated on the subject, although some heads of houses (particularly – McGonagall and Sprout) were not at all strict in their questioning. That was probably the reason why the Gryffindor keeper came forward and confessed to ‘Minnie’. Although Minnie was eager to swap his points punishment with not-too-uncomfortable detentions with herself, the Board intervened. In the end it cost Gryffindor just 50 points, but that year it also meant – losing the cup to Slytherin. They had won in Quidditch, though, so they got over the loss quickly. Still, Remus felt a 20-year old flame of irritation reignite in him, when he now found out that wasn’t exactly fair. Whether that was for his personal pride or to impress the crush (the Beater girl, Elle, as Remus chattily provided), Appleby had lied about the incident. Apparently – it was two Slytherin girls from 5h year, one of them a Beater, thus the choice of the place and the weapon. “They just never took the credit for it. Some Quidditch players are not **that** stupid.”

Or that time early in their O.W.L. year, when from morning on, Transfiguration classes took place in new classroom. It all began when the Slytherin 4th year were supposed to start their lesson. They entered the original Transfiguration Classroom in some sort of a flurry and thus barely noticed that every possible surface in it was covered in cat treats. When they did realise that, however, it was already too late – the treats had started duplicating and since it was touch that triggered them, the chaos that ensued almost made the classroom explode. Legend had it that McGonagall let them inside alone, distracted by a shaggy black dog who had taken her wand and ran away. Severus was therefore wondering if Remus had known anything about it. Remus did know. In fact, he had been the mastermind to that whole operation (though the idea itself, he fervently renounced, crediting it to Sirius). Obligingly, he recounted the whole trip to a muggle pet store, freeing the cat familiars outside respective Commons and Sirius-the-human getting a kitten painfully tangled into his hair. Around the part with Minnie’s “I may have no proof, but I **know** you four are complicit.” fit in the Gryffindor Common the evening of that day, Severus laughed. Without derision.

Or that time (probably the last in history) professor Sprout assigned some kids detention in the greenhouses. This, shockingly, could in no way be attributed to the Marauders’ shenanigans and, since it happened in their 2nd year, they weren’t even suspects back then. Besides, allegedly, the whole thing was just an unfortunate accident. The story involved five or three kids – the stories differed, because while Remus knew one of the culprits (an older Gryffindor), Severus swore he’d heard Sprout raging about ‘a trio’, and he had the better memory of them two. Dutifully serving their punishment in greenhouse seven, they mixed something up about the feed for the Alihotsy plants, causing them to emit a highly transferable pollen all over themselves. Barely able to breathe through the laughter that infected them with, the students went to the Hospital Wing to seek help. On their way, they spread the ‘disease’ through all the corridors. Worst of all – having forgotten to inform Sprout about the mishap, they let her walk right into that trap with a whole class of 6th years. Subsequently, by the time of dinner, about half the school was writhing with paroxysms of giggles, some professors included. Remus, who was spending that day in the hospital wing, as was his monthly custom, gave an eye-witness’ account to the incredible business (and enragement) of Madame Pomfrey.

Or...

Actually, it was a pity (and a compelling mystery why) they had been avoiding mentioning their school years before, as if that would hurt them.

It wasn’t until Frankie interrupted them with a reminder of lunch, that Severus finally left to go for the walk with Teddy.

\---

Encouraged by the layered safety measures, Hermione answered them by return crow during Ajax’s third journey to her that year. In the letter, she (or they) reported that the rebels had finally found support. To obtain it, they had been trading parts of the information they had been sent. Thankfully, in the encrypted Post Scriptum, she had specified which parts and to whom exactly. That was about the only thing that stopped Severus calling them “a bunch of senseless idiots, who are endangering me. And by proxy, you. All because their reading comprehension does not allow them to understand the word ‘classified’.”

Both the name of the country, which offered them refuge, and the official responsible for that were hidden in a half-magical, half-logical riddle. The riddle resembled a spell-crossword. To Severus’ bewilderment Remus was the first to solve it. When he greeted him with a “Venancio Villarreal, Spain.” for a moment Severus failed to look typically unimpressed (and Remus hadn’t felt that proud of himself in quite a time).

Indisputably, the outbreak of a war was looming, its outline on the horizon getting clearer with each day. However, it seemed that everyone – from them two, through the rebels, up to foreign governments – was waiting for Voldemort’s move. As if to baffle them all away from their plans of counteracting, the Dark Lord was still refraining from any spectacular manoeuvres.

In order to be prepared for whatever was approaching, Severus had to have his Lord’s utmost confidence. Thus, he suggested to Dolores Umbridge, who he had to correspond with on other matters, that the MR should trace and interrogate runaway muggleborn’s families, if they hadn’t done so yet. As with the prosecution of any house-elves or other creatures, such as werewolves, this indeed had been overlooked, since it operated on the assumption that those would be equal to wizards. Once introduced to it, however, the Mudblood Registry recognised the value of that heinous idea. Severus didn’t say so, but it was deducible that he hated himself for having had it come up to him. 

Remus could only imagine how it felt watching it being implemented. Remus tried to support him through it, but Severus just isolated himself mentally from the topic. That ability of his was remarkable, of course, and very much useful in the current times. However, it worried Remus that it all was costing Severus too much – that he was giving more ‘to the case’ or the ‘greater good’ than he actually was able to.

Worse yet – soon the MR’s search yielded results. During torturous interrogations, the family of one mudblood betrayed his location. Thanks to that, a small group of fugitives was traced in the now allied (or maybe infiltrated, that couldn’t be said for sure) Sweden. The Swedish MoM had yet to introduce a harsh anty-muggleborn policy, but those people were transferred between the countries as political prisoners, earning themselves page 2nd of that Saturday’s Prophet.

With such happenings littering their weeks and in the constant fear of another Summoning (during which Draco’s endeavours could be exposed), imagining the future in any manner was just feeding naive hopes. That pained Remus greatly, though at least now he was seeing the prospect of any change whether it was to come in a year or a decade. Still, everything was build upon instable fundaments – they couldn’t be sure of their own safety nor even of whether fighting Voldemort wouldn’t turn out to be completely pointless.

All that considered, Remus really appreciated the ersatz of normality that his relationship with Severus had become.

It kept catching Remus by surprise that it was him, but it just felt right.

Severus was brave and steadfast, if often internally conflicted. Moreover, he was good, or at least – he had chosen to be, which was clearly harder than just having the path to goodness paved from the very start. Remus had learnt to trust him, confide in him. He appreciated it when Severus reciprocated that even in the most insubstantial of manners. Severus just ‘got him’, whatever it was they were speaking of and Remus wished he could do the same. He wanted to **know** him, every and each part of him, so he was overjoyed whenever Severus was letting him in under all his shells and barriers.

Remus adored talking to him, hearing his silky voice wind through the never-ending ravines of his knowledge and interests like a river. Or being listened to, pierced by the chasm-like eyes, enveloped in the calming darkness buried in them. He liked the silences too, the lack of pressure of it all. He liked – no, _loved_ even – that they had grown to be comfortable around each other; that it just felt so normal to have Severus around, with his mix-of-herbs scent and left-placed utensils or hand-towels.

This was about the only thing Remus had, which could classify as ‘normal’.

As for the night-caresses, he could only suspect they continued – since the seaside dreams did and sometimes Severus’ smell lingered on his duvet. He did not mind that one bit.

What kind of relationship it was, however, Remus was unable to tell for certain. Envisioning that it could last or better yet – progress in the future ( _or – a future – considering how indeterminate it is)_ was enticing. At the same time, he was aware of the naivety of that.

Severus, on his side, wasn’t exactly making Remus’ musings any easier in terms of finding a definite answer to his the question of “What is this going to lead to?”

He was an ever-changing puzzle, flickering with masks like a Boggart in a room full of people. That was what made him fascinating, though simultaneously it was confusing at times. In one moment, he was open, passionately discussing Roman muggle philosophers or protective wards, or even their mutual past and experiences. The next minute, he was irritable, reticent and needling Remus with the indifferent scowl on his face. Severus certainly seemed to care about him and in a romantic way, but then again – it was possible he was imagining what wasn’t there. After all, Remus had even thought that the last batch of Wolfsbane was less tart than the usual, which was just silly of him.

If Remus were to name one thing that would bring Severus to his mind, it would be a muggle wireless disturbed by magic.

It was impossible to predict when it would be a great song coming from it and when – an ear-piercing white noise. Remus personally, would love to ascertain whether the headache-inducing screech would have been emitted to anyone, or if it was solely audible to a werewolf’s ears. That enigma, like many others concerning Severus (such as the one of his ties to Narcissa), was keeping him guessing. Of course, it wasn’t like he could just ask.

Or maybe he could, hypothetically.

However, Remus wasn’t one to ask about such things openly. In his whole arsenal of questions, the ones about people’s feelings towards him were rare to non-existent. It had never been him to come out with declarations early on or to bring matters to a head. It had always been the other person. That was another issue. All Remus’ memories, all of his past, his regrets and fears, were surfacing whenever he let himself dream too much up. He would rather not think about what his friends such as the Weasleys would have said on the matter, not to mention Sirius. At least he was sure Dora would find it incredibly funny he was having feelings for Severus, of all people.

All of this was apparently easily discernible from an observer’s point of view, which Remus found out one day, during dinner.

Teddy was spending the week honing his newly acquired skill of walking. Remus was thankful the toddler hadn’t fully mastered it yet, because even though Teddy tottered, catching him had gotten harder already. Now he was safely caged in the kid chair, on Remus’ side. They usually ate alone, unless Severus had the time to spare.

Frankie was feeding Teddy, fighting the losing battle of convincing him to eat a potato, when her attention turned to Remus. “You is being funny, sir Remus, I was meaning to say.” she discerned suddenly.

Remus looked at her, inquiringly he hoped. The follow-up came after Frankie had wrestled Teddy’s little hand away from the plate, which he was attempting to turn over – possibly to free himself of the burden of having to finish his vegetables. “You is being funny. You and—“ she lowered her voice to a whisper, “—Master are – sir Remus.”

As ‘sir Remus’ almost gagged upon hearing that, Frankie went on, unabashed, “You is dancing around each other like a pair of peacocks fighting for food. Only you is not fighting, Frankie’s knowing. Not with that, at least.” she stated, now again not meeting Remus’ eyes. “If Frankie can be saying something—“ Her tone wasn’t shy at all, but her ears twitched nervously as she spoke. “—Frankie would be saying that you needs to be knowing what Frankie is. Like, that you two is hugging when asleep. You, sir, is amazingly deep-sleeper—“

 _Why in seven hells does she know all that?_ Remus wondered, chewing his chicken. This time he was careful not to let a piece of it slide right into his windpipe, if Frankie had any other revelations to tell him. He quickly concluded that the elf probably had been another person to come to Teddy’s aid during the nights. Upon that realisation, Remus promised himself to start drawing the hangings on his side of the bed.

Having put away Teddy’s plate and summoned him a little bowl with apple mousse, Frankie added, in a whisper, “—Master, Frankie is supposing, is never admitting to that. Master is not admitting to nice feelings much.” Frankie’s head jerked involuntarily, as if she had offended her Master and was now fighting old habits of having to punish herself for such misdemeanours.

Remus smiled at her placatingly, even though the situation was as uncomfortable to him as it was surreal.

“—So if you is not wanting to be funny, you is having to do something. You is having to be obvious, because Master is only seeing obvious.” Frankie quelled another muscle twitch and _blushed?_ or at least her cheeks changed colour, though a flush had a bluish-purple hue in house elves, apparently.

Since Frankie didn’t mention the topic again, Remus didn’t find it fit to rise to it either, instead focusing on wiping Teddy’s face from the dessert.

Later, however, Remus chose to take the house elf’s advice and resolved to be clearer with how he acted. All the while, he was dreading the approaching Teddy’s birthday – knowing that the decision on the matter of the bed was approaching with it. He was certain Severus wouldn’t make a move intended to clarify their situation on his own. Therefore, if Remus wanted to stay (all the while being fair to their prearranged agreement on it), he would have to be the one to do that.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Teddy had been hearing, lately, that there was a ‘celebration’ approaching. Dad called it ‘his first byrthdey’. The last celebration Teddy had experienced was ‘Chris-mas’. If this was going to be any like it, he was looking forward to it.

Chris-mas was a really nice time, in Teddy’s opinion. As far as he understood it, it meant getting a lot of new things to play with and eating a lot of apple mush. Ever since Chris-mas, he’d had a little broom that Dragon-Boy showed him how to use when they visited him in the Big House again. Teddy was told by Hawk that this ‘broom’ and the new bird for his collection came from the Big House, which Hawk and Dad called the ‘Malfoys’ house’, or ‘manow’, whatever that meant.

Teddy also made a new friend in the Big House – the Green Girl. She wasn’t literally green, she only wore a green dress. However, he then heard the Man and the Woman call her Green-something, so Teddy assumed that it was her name (even though she told him a different one when saying ‘hi’). The Green Girl he only knew from the Big House, but he was really happy when he and Someone accidentally run into her and Dragon Boy on a walk once. The only green things she was wearing then, were a scarf and a hat.

Hats were one of the things Teddy was learning about.

He now had a book – lots of books, actually – and some of them had things like brooms and magic-sticks and hats in it. Thanks to them, he realised that he had a lot of hats. Only one of them all, however, was a funny one that moved, a little like the brown, dirty hat that stood in Hawk’s writing-room. Teddy got his funny hat for Chris-mas too and Dad let him wear it around the home lot. The hat was just another of his Chris-mas new things and it was almost better than the broom.

The broom was amazing, in Teddy’s opinion, because it let him fly like birds did. Of course, he couldn’t do it the way Hawk was doing it. Hawk’s flying skills were yet another proof of his true, bird identity. Sadly, Teddy wasn’t a bird himself. However, it was still great to hover in the air, even if much lower than Aja was doing it. Teddy also had much more diffuclty in it than Aja did. Holding onto the long piece of wood and steering it, proved much harder than Teddy had expected it to be. Unlike with magic-sticks (which were called ‘wons’ according to Dad and Someone), Teddy decided that the book-name of a b(w)oom was better than anything he could think of. ‘Flying on a b(w)oom’ – it just sounded very funny.

Teddy’s byrthdey came sometime after the day when Hawk showed him the white flowers. They had lately started to go into the forest, he and Hawk (though Teddy wasn’t allowed to actually walk there – he was carried). They stopped between trees and Hawk pointed his gloved hand down, so Teddy would know where to look. There they were – peeking from underneath the cushion of ‘snow’. Teddy found them really pretty with their white little heads on bright green sticks and he thought that Dad would like them too. Therefore, he stared at Hawk pleadingly until he understood that.

Hawk grumbled something like, “Now you are able to let me in, huh, Edward? Circe, I am going to have to fix that.” Teddy wasn’t sure what he was referring to, but he understood that he was the ‘Edward’ in that sentence.

Then, Hawk crouched down and Teddy could almost touch the pretty flowers. He didn’t let Teddy do that. Instead, he took out his magic-stick and in a second they flew into his hand in a bunch. “And this is called ‘ruining nature’.” he said in a sullen tone, but Teddy saw that he was smiling a little.

It turned out that Dad did like getting the flowers a lot. Hawk, on the other hand, seemed to absolutely hate having to give them to him. Maybe that was because Dad didn’t look too convinced that it was Teddy who had wanted to bring them home. On that Teddy, actually, agreed with Hawk – it was not fair of Dad to disbelieve him!

The next time they were outside, Hawk evidently didn’t understand that Teddy was thinking of asking him to do that again. Teddy tried to tell him that out loud, but Hawk didn’t “speak fluent babble”, which meant he was speaking to deaf ears. However, the flowers that were in the home, standing in a tall thing that reflected sun in a glimmering way, were lifting themselves up lively each morning. That was because of Hawk’s magic-stick, Teddy knew.

They added a pleasant, flowery note to the scents of the room. Teddy liked that lot and so did Dad.

Teddy always paid a lot of attention to smells. For example, lately he noted that sometimes in the mornings Hawk’s hand smelled very faintly like Dad. Teddy didn’t know what that meant, but to him the scents of the two of them were already quite inseparable, since they both filled the rooms of the home and thus – **meant** ‘home’ to him.

On the day of Teddy’s byrthday the flowers were still there, standing in the middle of the big table. They were always kept far from Teddy’s reach, whether he was in his chair or on the blanket with Someone, like he was now. He could look at them, however, making his hair turn the same spotless white that they were.

Dad had told him he would join Teddy and Someone “in a moment”, because he had to “put this into the oven first”.

Teddy had already noted the continued absence of the Chris-mas tree. It had disappeared a while ago and he was missing it a bit, because it had been all moving and glittery, thus very fascinating. He didn’t see any big boxes with things either, so he wasn’t expecting to get anything anymore. However, in the morning, after Hawk left to the forbidden room, leaving him with Dad, Teddy was told that he was going to get a ‘cake’. He knew that Dad was making it now and if the scents in the kitchen were connected to that, then Teddy already liked his ‘byrthday cake’. In his work, Dad had been pausing every now and then, to consult Teddy on whether he was liking a particular taste or smell of something, which he was going to put into the cake.

Now, Dad was bustling around the kitchen counters and humming to a song, which was coming out of the silver-and-black machine that he called ‘a grampophone’. The grampophone was “for Teddy” as Hawk said. However, Dad liked it too, so Teddy had nothing against him using it. It made Dad happy to sing to the melodious sounds coming out of it and that happiness travelled to Teddy through the air. Besides, Dad was definitely better at singing and humming lullabies than Hawk was, so it was also nice to listen to that.

Apparently, Hawk thought so too. He had just appeared in the door to the forbidden room and for a moment didn’t let Dad know that he had entered. Dad usually noticed such things himself, but now he was too absorbed in his task to hear him coming. Despite being good at it, Dad seemed to be very shy about his humming, so maybe Hawk just didn’t want to disturb and fluster him.

After smiling back at the grin-like grimace of Hawk’s, Teddy returned to his playing. For some reason, he was never allowed to use his broom in the mornings, when there were many of the untouchable things around, so he had to resign himself to the soft building blocks. He was creating a home for his duck, lion and crow. The **teddy** bears already had one he had built with Dad earlier and if Teddy knew anything about teddies – they needed neighbours.

The sack with the blocks was almost empty already, so Someone was holding it for Teddy to help him reach the bottom of it. Teddy had added a few blue blocks to the room for the duck, when he noted that Dad had stopped signing. The grampophone, however, was still making pleasant noise. Teddy finished the room and heard Someone say it looked like a ‘fens’. Then, Someone began changing his construction a little. “See here, Little One, and now it is being a straight wall.”

Unlike Dad, Someone often corrected his creations, even when they didn’t really need correcting. Sometimes, she interpreted Teddy’s choices as mistakes. Then, he would protest by flailing his hands and making a face as if he was about to cry. Now, however, Teddy barely even noticed that she was meddling with his houses, because he heard Dad and Hawk speak about him.

“Just... I beg of you, tell me that you didn’t get Teddy anymore toys – anymore of anything, honestly.” Dad said pleadingly.

“I did not. Left it all to your discretion, Remus.” Hawk’s words were constantly being interrupted by loud clanks that meant in a moment there was going to be a strong morning-smell wafting around. “I would not have expected myself to say that, but Dad is a killjoy, isn’t he, Teddy?” he asked, suddenly turning from the counter with a swish of his black bat-like disguise.

Teddy had no idea what he was being asked about, so, just to be on the safe side, he said, “No no.”

Dad gave a loud huff of laughter. Teddy smiled, joyful that he had made Dad happy with his answer and kept looking at them for a moment. Hawk was standing by the big box with lights in circles, which Teddy was categorically forbidden to touch. Now he had his back towards it, because he was making an angry face at Teddy (though Teddy knew it was not **really** a scary face of his). Dad was on Hawk’s right, now too turned so that he could see all of them. He was holding a huge, glistening bowl, in which a wooden stick (a little like the magic-one, but wider at the end), was spinning, making drops of a pink thing jump into the air.

Tilting his head to Hawk over the big bowl, Dad said, “See? The child has spoken. This is his third proper word, by the way, after ‘dada’ and ‘broom’. ‘No’ – well, that is definitely your influence, not mine.”

Unlike Dad, Hawk still wasn’t smiling, but his tone was amused when he answered Dad. “Well, that is about the legacy I could hope for. Only, Teddy, with me you are supposed to always agree.”

Teddy blinked, wondering what was it that Hawk wanted him to do and simply said, “Da-da owk.” in acknowledgement of them both. However, he wasn’t sure they understood him or even – that they had, actually, been waiting for another reply, since they had been both surprised with the last one.

After that, Teddy’s name stopped coming up, so his concentration drifted back to his little village. Now he noticed that Someone had messed with it a bit, so he began changing that and his focus remained on that, until he heard himself mentioned again.

“So, I think we could celebrate Teddy’s birthday sometime between his naps. Will you be around at 3 pm?”

“Frankly, I’m not sure. Selket wanted to talk to me—“ Hawk said, then added, “You have something on your face.”

“Oh – probably butter cream. Where?” Dad inquired, and Teddy recognised that tone as one that meant he was smiling, so he turned his head to them again, to check his suspicions.

Hawk took a step towards Dad and the white shape of his hand landed on Dad’s face for a second. “There.”

Now Dad was the one who moved suddenly – leaning close to Hawk. Clearly, Hawk thought it was abrupt as well, because he froze in place when Dad did that.

Dad kissed him, like he kissed Teddy, though not entirely like that. He didn’t kiss him on the cheek or forehead, but on the lips and for a lot longer. Just when Teddy had decided to return to making the room for his crow, who was pecking him lightly on the hand, Hawk bolted away from Dad. Next, he marched out of the room, without a glance back at Dad or sideways at Teddy as he was passing.

Teddy followed him with his eyes and when the door slammed he twitched a bit, clutching the crow’s wing tightly as the noise hit his ears.

Dad, meanwhile, had noticed that Teddy got nervous and approached him with an explanation. Teddy didn’t understand all of it, but Dad’s tone was calming in itself. “See, Teddy, you’re not the only kid around here, as I keep saying. And Severus—“ that meant ‘Hawk’ in Dad’s language, “—is probably scared of me a bit, like you are of an enchanted toothbrush. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have scared him, especially when you were around.”

Teddy briefly wondered how Dad, who wasn’t scary at all, could terrify Hawk, who wasn’t afraid of anything Teddy was, like of the bad people, for example. In a moment, he forgot all about it, because Dad brought him a small, round, red fruit he was planning to put on the byrthdey cake. It tasted a little too sour for Teddy, so he made a face.

“Okay... that I won’t be putting on the cake.” Dad promised, giving him a small piece of the brown sweet thing called ‘shoklet’ to cover the sourness. “That’s better, right?” he asked, pointing to a bigger red thing, that he had let Teddy taste earlier. Now it landed in Dad’s hand out of nowhere, after the shoklet disappeared from it.

Although he suspected that Dad already knew the answer to that question, because he knew a lot when it came to telling how Teddy felt, he decided to respond. “Es da da.” he said.

Dad grinned widely, as if he understood his speech correctly. Lately it seemed like he sometimes really did… “I love you very much, Teddy, you know?” Dad told him out of sudden, kissing him softly on the forehead.

“Es i ow da da – en y low uuu oo.” Teddy replied, but this time it didn’t seem like Dad grasped the meaning of that. He giggled a little, while Teddy was gravely serious – he did know and he did love Dad very much too. But Teddy laughed with him, because Dad’s warm chuckle was very infectious (though Teddy had no idea that was the word for it).

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was more than obvious to him – Lupin needed consolation and possibly a rebound. He was only sweet, because that was an intrinsic element of him, like the wide-eyed look, scars, or chocolate and tea somewhere in his nearest proximity.

Meanwhile Severus...

Well, Severus had no idea what he needed, nor of what he wanted. It had all been much less complicated back when he thought it was only death.

In terms of interpersonal relationships, there was still the train-persistently-going-nowhere that was what he and Narcissa had. There also was Lucius, who thankfully, had turned to better options than Severus. And then, there was Remus. Paradoxically, Severus had absolutely no choice between them, or at least that was what it felt like to him. It was exactly like with everything else in life. Opportunities were being shuffled before him, but then snatched from his reach the second he would let himself believe they were there **for him**.

Severus had been right, of course, when he warned himself that he shouldn’t get involved with Remus. And yet, he couldn’t possibly not.

Lupin was incredibly smart _as for an idiot_ , awfully considerate and patient (even with all his damned emotions) and had that annoying habit of smiling up to his doe-eyes, forming crinkles underneath them.

Worst of all – Remus understood him, which couldn’t be said even about people who had direct access to his mind, not to mention the whole rest of them.

 _But that is not such a surprise when he went a path parallel to yours, is it? Only, mind you, he did not end up in the moral gutter..._ – as his conscience noted with a whole new flavour of guilt, once when he was talking to Remus. Then, however, Lupin, as if instinctively deducing such a thought flicked through his brain, wrapped his hand over his for a moment. That was exactly the brand of silent understanding, which made all prudence abandon Severus completely.

Severus did not regard Remus’ occasional rambling as bothersome anymore. In fact, he found himself wanting to listen to it – to his voice, raspy like flickering out flames, revealing what was hidden beneath the peaceful front. It was all very much like discovering missing pieces to a long-forgotten puzzle. Severus hadn’t longed for them before, but now that he had been reminded of it, he concluded that the picture would look much neater once completed.

They were able to talk for hours, that much he knew already. However, only now was he discovering that they could do so about matters such as how it was like to grow up as an outcast, for example.

Remus’ condition (“You can call it ‘what I am’, Severus, really, I don’t mind.”) separated him from everyone from early childhood in a similar way Severus’ poverty and affiliation for Dark Magic did. The difference was that Remus had parents, who cared deeply and “weren’t to blame for anything, though my dad always blamed himself.” Severus begged to differ, because just how exactly Lyall’s agreeing to treating his own kid like a monster, which needed to be hidden, was ‘great parenting’ flew over his head. But of course, Remus did realise that, only he didn’t “hold it against him”.

“Everyone would have a hard time accustoming to having a werewolf son.” as he said it, though not meeting Severus’ gaze for a moment. “I know I would’ve.” he added heavily.

Severus was glad Remus was studiously staring at the books on the shelf in that moment, because he was certain the expression on his face was condemning. _Damned werewolf Lupin and his bullshit_ about Teddy going to have to be ashamed of him. Or – in this case – blaming him for the illness.

“—But what’s important is that he then did get accustomed to it— that he changed, in the end.” This was Remus’ winning argument, his absolute ace, for about anything in the world.

He did sometimes let on that this wasn’t precisely what he was thinking, that he did see the bad in people just as clearly. However, it almost seemed as if he was forcing himself not to – thus that was showing rarely. Remus, generally, was creating himself more than he was being authentic, from Severus’ standpoint at least. Frankly, Severus actually preferred him when he wasn’t curbing his temper and beliefs. When he was accusing people instead of forgiving everyone (even if said people would include Severus), when he was angry without restraint rather than accepting everything that had happened to him with dejected nods.

 _Even if it is a werewolf thing, I’d rather have him ‘mentally’ be a werewolf than a fawner._ – Severus recently discovered with a great amount of self-directed disbelief. Remus’ occasional bristliness just had a certain, inexplicable appeal to it. Either way, Severus felt better equipped to deal with rage than with tears, that was sure. And that wasn’t only because then he didn’t have to quell any, absolutely ridiculous, jolts of jealousy he wasn’t entitled to.

Remus having a temper and giving it a more free rein, did not mean, however, that he had ever stopped being nauseatingly placid and kind for most of the time.

Apparently, he’d only been waiting for a nonverbal consent, such as that single hug, to become all touchy-feely. Yet, somehow Severus constantly failed to hate him for it. Remus was all random, unexpected touches, nudges, brushes and hand-grabbing, and more bright smiles than before (not that Severus was counting). Meanwhile, while sleeping, he was subconsciously continuing that. Thus, Severus was now often waking up with Remus’ arm draped over him or _well, not so much ‘draped’, as – suffocatingly tightly wrapped._

But neither of them was willing to propel it any further or perhaps – neither of them felt the need to. At least, that was so, until that ill-fated date in February, which had been looming over them for a long time now. That, inescapable in its approach, event had suddenly changed from being the promise of relief to the closing-date of making choices and Severus had to admit that, frankly, neither of them was especially skilled at that.

When Teddy’s birthday came, in the end it was Remus who made a decision. And Severus simply fled.

The kiss was light and almost accidental and he had provoked it, so it really shouldn’t have caused him to react like that. However – that was exactly why it did. It made him weak with the casualness of it. With the overwhelming warmth of Remus’ lips against his. With the gentle scratching of his beard. With his caramel eyes open and _admiring?,_ when it was impossible he had earned anything of the sort. Remus was causing him to feel wanted, not solely needed, and that was an extremely dangerous quicksand, because it couldn’t possibly be the truth. _He simply has no other options_...

The Crucio-like (both in terms of pain and the imaginary, blinding brightness of it) realisation that he’d prefer this illusion to last and, therefore – how badly he’d jinxed himself in the foot by starting anything in the first place, was what made Severus evacuate immediately.

Sadly, he couldn’t do that as completely as he would have wished to. A few hours later, though as late as he could have possibly made it, he was forced to face the music.

Teddy was already well away in his new room and, since Severus’ wand wasn’t vibrating, he must have fallen into slumber without much trouble. Severus regretted not having participated in his birthday in the end, but that would have been a highly uncomfortable situation. Thankfully, he had an airtight excuse. Lilith indeed came during her free period, to talk about changing the accommodations in the Transfiguration classroom, since the exams were nearing and her N.E.W.T. students needed to practice human transfiguration, which would be best done in a separate, mirror-filled chamber.

Unfortunately, it was too early for Remus to be asleep too. However, he was acting as if nothing had happened, which was certainly fine with Severus. He felt deeply ashamed for having run away earlier, but if Remus wasn’t intending to address it, he certainly wasn’t either.

Therefore, Severus told him about the new Ministry’s directives he’d been sent today – the latest evidence of readying for a war. Remus, on his side, recounted to him how Teddy fought his way through a whole piece of cake with the ‘help’ of Ajax, making a complete mess all over the kitchen.

Severus was offered a piece of said cake, as well. Their eyes didn’t meet while Remus was speaking of it and Severus stalled that with a “Perhaps tomorrow morning, but thanks.” Apart from that dash of awkwardness, all went as usual.

Soon Remus’ hour to go to sleep came. Severus atypically did not have much to do in the lab that day, so at the time, he was reading in the library. Hearing him leave the bathroom about 15 minutes later, he came to the conclusion that he could go to sleep at a decent hour too, for once. Wolfsbane brewing was starting just in a few days, so he could use all the reserves of sleep he could gather. On his way, he noted that the bed – **their** bed – was empty. Turned out the events of the morning had had an impact on _goddamned Lupin_ after all.

 _Congratulations on helping him make a decision, exactly the one you ‘didn’t care’ he could make._ – Severus’ inner voice sneered. That angered him deeply enough to start rummaging through the desks’ drawers for the password to the transformation room.

Severus stopped himself just short of barging in, with his hand already on his wand to open the door. Whatever he wished to say could wait until the morning, especially considering that he wasn’t sure what it would be. “I didn’t want you to leave, Remus.” while simple and rather on par with what he sincerely thought, would not escape his throat. No sooner than his last breath would at least.

\---

In the end, he said nothing.

Regardless of what Lupin occasionally had to say about the matter, he was not a kid. As such, he was able to sleep in a bed on his own. Perhaps it was better that way (or so he tried to persuade himself).

At least twice they almost collided in the door to Teddy’s room. Apparently, sharing a bed had the advantage of knowing, whether sub- of fully- consciously, whether the child was already being taking care of in his crying. That, however, was the only uncomfortable change.

Well, perhaps Severus was sort of missing the feeling of his ribcage being squashed during the night. _But am I, really? Why would I be?_

Although now, that there was another letter to the rebels waiting to be written (and that was what they focused on) it was a bit harder to tell, in terms of communication all remained the same. Therefore, Severus could certainly live with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have edited a single paragraph (starts with ‘furthermore’) in chapter 3, to fit what I’m saying in here (on Teddy's sleeping arrangements). That’s the cost of having a WIP already part-published, I guess, but just so you know.  
>  Also, a big thank you to the lovely person who suggested the "make Frankie help them realise" idea. You know who you are (well doesn't that sound menacing, but anyways <3). 
> 
> It just got to me that one of the school-years stories may have been (loosely an unwittingly) inspired by a small fragment in Endrina's "The secret language of plants", so if you see the parallel - it was entirely unintentional.   
>  If you don't see it and not because it's so small, but because you haven't read that work, then go check it out (after you're finished with this one, of course ;D ). 


	18. The Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, I'm doing some editing of the already published chapters. Therefore, I have questions: Do you think editing (clearing, mostly) most present-day-news notes makes sense for when the whole of it will be published or would you prefer them to stay? Also, do the tags still seem ok?  
>  As for the chapter - well, you can see the title... 

One good thing had come from the Forest having been ‘cleansed’ of werewolves – that as soon as the coast was clear, Severus could return to using it for collecting ingredients. Furthermore, now he could do it completely alone.

He usually dedicated one to two mornings a month to it, according to his current necessity and the season. This was his third lonesome visit to the forest with such an aim this year, fourth one in general, counting the fatal crackdown on the wolves. Severus was thankful that back then it hadn’t come to anyone using any too destructive spells. Not even Selwyn, who had since healed completely, but certainly could have burst into a murderous panic, resorted to those. Considering brutal killing spells ‘not too destructive’ probably wasn’t giving Severus the best testimony. However, those hurt only what they were being aimed at. He would rather avoid envisioning the fate of the Thestrals had any dimwit, say, cast Fiendfyre.

The Thestrals, not only hadn't been damaged, but – now reinstated to the whole area of the Forest – were thriving. Yet somehow, despite being the only predators in the area, they necessitated feeding up. Perhaps it was in their nature not to pass up on any opportunity of it.

Currently, two of the bony creatures had scented Severus and were trotting towards him, jostling the bare branches of bushes. Their hooves pattered against the wet ground until they halted a few feet from him, unafraid, but keeping their distance. The smaller one, possibly a mare, lowered her head towards the human. Seeing that, Severus straightened from his crouch by the mossy fallen tree, sprinkled with snow over the vivid green.

To return the pleasantry, he took off one of his gloves and began rummaging through the contents of his collecting bag. He pulled a crystal box out of it, in which a few dead rats were neatly positioned. Having taken the lid of, he waved his wand over the box, undoing the freezing charm. The smell reached the horses, causing them to snort impatiently before he started levitating the snacks to them.

The box wasn’t empty yet when the bigger of the horses looked around, flaring his nostrils. With it in the lead, they cantered left, further into the forest, where the feeder stood somewhere behind the trees. The stallion must have realised there was better food being prepared for them by Murray. He was the young Hogsmeade resident, hired casually for some of the game keeping duties.

_The boy is starting his day fresh and early with a little bit of animal murder, I see._

Alone in the area again, Severus returned to his collecting.

Except from a circle of wilted snowdrops close to the cave, the underbrush was opulent around the slowly melting blankets of snow.

The harshness of this year’s winter was paying off now. Even those plants, whose blooming window was already closing, such as the winter aconite, were still available and with new ones growing. Picking the flowers, Severus walked around through the drifts, bronzed by the ground the thawed snow was revealing. All the while, he was slowly following the trail of the Thestrals.

Having picked all the aconite in the area, he was just leaning down to pluck some hellebore, when he distinguished a change in his surroundings. Suddenly, the frost became bitterer and a cloud of gloom dawned on the grove he was collecting in.

A Dementor was sweeping through the Forest behind him. Severus felt it before he heard it, attuned to any changes of the mental kind.

As he raised his eyes from the ground, he saw that the beams of the rising sun had been extinguished already.

It wasn’t just one creature – not two even. It was a whole unit of them, based on how pervasively their effect was discernible in the air.

Severus made a mental note to send an owl asking, “ _Why in the blazes are Dementors strolling around my school?”_ to the Ministry the very second he was back in his office. But for now, he simply concentrated on making himself invisible to them. In a blink, his mind was closed off from all emotions, as good as an animal’s, or perhaps even emptier than that.

It was always different outside than it had been in Azkaban. Here they were not expecting to find a human and so they were not testing just any presence. Besides, now his skill of mental concealment had improved, compared to twenty years ago. He wasn’t afraid, either, as he had been back then. He still feared many of the things he was sentenced to dealing with, but despair was certainly not one of them.

Therefore, the Dementors flitted next to Severus, passing him by in a swarm, but paying him no heed.

Only one of them stopped by. Its clattering, will-sapping presence focused on him, but after a moment of surveying him with its senses, it turned away. It must have concluded that an animal, and one so innutritious in its drive, was not worthy of its attention.

 _Wonder if they counted me as a Thestral._ That, frankly, he would probably consider a compliment.

 _Thestrals!_ – it dawned on him. _Murray._ The young man could be attacked by the Dementors. He shouldn’t, of course, but there shouldn’t be a horde of those creatures gliding around without Severus’ knowledge either, so they could be rogue ones.

Hopefully he had already left the Forest. However, that wasn’t guaranteed, so Severus hurried through the darkness after the black-hooded creatures, with his wand drawn and still keeping a close watch on his mind. It would not do anyone any favours if the Dementors became aware of him too soon.

Murray had not escaped them.

Severus saw him from beyond the faint outlines of trees, down in the clearing. The boy was standing with his back to him, a lean figure of bright blue. He was trapped almost exactly in the centre of the trampled glade, just by the feeding rack. Around him, from in between the strings of tree trunks and white-topped conifers, a shoal of Dementors was swimming through the air. They moved swiftly, engulfing the mead like a tidal wave of darkness. Making shallow ruts in the melting snow with their cloaks, they were closing in on the boy from all sides.

Either Murray, a half-blood, from what Severus knew on the matter, had been misidentified as a mudblood or a criminal, or they truly were runaway.

As Severus strode downhill, hearing the rustle of the Dementors’ swooping down it alongside him, he saw silver sparks flare into the air. They dissipated quickly. Apparently, Murray was failing to cast the charm. _And, of course, he knows nothing that actually helps..._

A couple of Dementors, coming from the other side than the ones Severus was outrunning, were already almost next to the boy. Aiming his wand at Murray, he drew a circle of blue, soaring flames around him. He was late – too late – two of the creatures managed to slink to the boy before the barrier appeared.

Murray realised he was being helped. Yet, before he could so much as look behind, one of the Dementors was right by him. Its effect overwhelmed him quickly. He slumped onto the bedding of snow, hiding his head between his arms.

Severus had seconds to decide what to do.

Dark Magic gave only so many possibilities of aiding someone else. Unsurprisingly, it usually left each wizard to fend for themselves. He knew what he could, theoretically, use, but in that case, he had to have an alibi for his Lord.

 _I should have ignored it and not create problems for myself. He’s an adult wizard, it is ridiculous he cannot fight them off on his own._ – Severus discerned, lunging forwards through the fire. The spell let him in with no trouble.

Meanwhile, the boy fell completely to the ground, consciousness fleeting with minimal help of Severus’ nonverbal spell. The closest Dementor began lowering its hood.

Severus partly dismounted his mind barriers, revealing himself. That momentarily distracted the creatures. Their freezing presence flooded him. He felt them acutely, sucking all self-preservation out of him. The flashes of memories wrestled against the bars of his mind, futilely trying to drown his reason. He did not let the despair and resignation overpower him, guarding the last scrap of will and the feelings he would soon need, deep inside himself.

As the rattling breaths resonated almost next to his ear, he snatched the wand out of Murray’s limp grip.

Now he closed his mind from the outside again. The creatures, dumbfounded by his disappearance, turned to the boy again. Praying that another’s wand would listen to him, Severus focused on the charm.

Fortunately, the wand obeyed beautifully and the brightness of the spell hit his eyes.

The Dementor preparing to perform the kiss – its mist-like face with a gaping hole of a mouth still horribly visible – backed away from the boy under the attack of the animal woven of light. The Patronus scurried towards the second Dementor, chasing them both outside the ring of blue fire.

But Severus did not recognise the animal he had cast.

For a moment he thought, this being the first time he borrowed a wand for that particular spell, that perhaps Patronuses were wand-specific. What had jumped out of the tip of Murray’s wand and dashed to protect them was tinier than what Severus was used to and had a long tail.

It wasn't a doe. He had somehow lost his doe.

As the Patronus turned around in a swirl of silver, Severus caught his breath. For a moment, he refused to so much as look at it, furiously blinking, clinging to the idea of the doe it should shape-shift back into. All that, because it was a wolf.

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

Now safe within the Protego, Severus was watching in horror as his Patronus loped amongst the hooded creatures, who slowly backed away under its attack. Observing it, he realised with only a phantasm of relief, that it was not precisely a wolf. It certainly had something wolfish to it, but it looked too thin and too elongated to be one. The more he watched it, the more he thought it resembled an emaciated hybrid between a dog ( _or a wolf_ ) and a fox. _Somewhat like Crane did..._

Severus had no idea what to feel about it, so he settled for anger. _I swear I will kill someone for all this._ – he promised himself solemnly, feeling fury boil in him.

As soon as the danger had passed, Severus called the Patronus away. Then, he wiped the wand from the traces of the spell best he could, before slipping it back into the boy’s hand and finally bent down to bring Murray round.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Frankie was handing him the plate of apple mousse for Teddy’s afternoon snack, when she suddenly froze.

“Master is calling.” she informed and disapparated in a blink.

 _That’s odd._ – Remus reckoned. Severus was quite self-sufficient and rarely relying on the help of the elf. Besides, it was the hour of dinner, so it was improbable Frankie was needed so immediately.

A while passed by, and Teddy was already finishing his food, but there was no sight of Frankie.

“You’ll be good for a moment, won’t you, Teddy?” Remus asked. Then, aware he was risking the food getting all over the floor, he swiftly walked into the bedroom for the Map.

While he was opening the drawer, he heard the spoon falling onto the floor and so he hurried back, clutching the parchment. However, apart from throwing that and continuing to eat with his hands, Teddy indeed was ‘good’. He had a talent for manual things, though not enough of it to have mastered the cutlery yet. Now Remus cleaned the mush off the tiles and put the spoon into the sink, accioing a new one to replace it with. The Map was waiting open on the tabletop, far away, so that it wouldn’t get splashed with food.

“And here – this is the last one. There goes the Quaffle!” Remus guided the spoon to the kid's mouth. “—Great job Teddy!” he added, wiping Teddy’s face with a napkin. “And now you’re going to sit here for a second more—“ He handed Teddy one of his plushies, to his delight – levitating it straight from the carpet. “—while dad checks what’s up.”

Teddy smiled blithely, squeezing the neck of the peacock he had been handed. Then, he proceeded to make it walk on the counter of his chair, visibly disappointed there was nothing shiny to knock over from there anymore.

Remus took another glance at the Map and, to his puzzlement, saw Frankie in the laboratory now, not by Severus in the office.

Intuition told him that something was wrong.

He asked for Frankie and in a second, the elf was standing next to him, holding two bottles filled with a violently violet potion he recognised as the sterilising one. Before she could give any explanation of her own, Remus asked, “Has something happened to Severus?”

“Yes, but Frankie isn’t knowing what. Frankie’s just knowing that Master is being badly hurt—” she informed in a brittle voice.

_Oh bloody hell…_

“Well then, I won’t be taking your time. Go to him.” Remus prompted her, still cursing internally.

A loud pop tore the air as Frankie reported off. Remus returned all his attention to Teddy, taking him out of the high chair and sitting down to read him a book. They could go to Teddy’s room for that, but Remus preferred the kitchen as more spacious. On top of that, he wanted to keep an eye on what was going on and the secluded kid’s bedroom wasn’t the best place to do that.

Part of Remus wanted to barge into the office and help Severus himself, but then again – _nothing good ever came from me taking action, has it?_ Besides, it was possible Severus would not appreciate such an intrusion, no matter what _~~is~~ was_ going on between them two.

It took about half an hour before Frankie reappeared in the kitchen, ready to continue assisting with Teddy. Soon before that, the door to Severus’ bedroom had closed after the sound of elfish apparating had issued from the inside.

When Remus asked, Frankie confirmed that her Master was not feeling well enough to return to work now. Whatever had happened, Severus probably needed rest more than anything else. Therefore, Remus stifled both his curiosity and solicitousness and went on with his day as usual.

It was only a few hours later, when going through the interconnecting bedroom became unavoidable.

As often, Remus fought with Frankie over the privilege of laying Teddy down to sleep. He won this time. She went to collect the necessary kid clothes and Remus, carrying the child, opened the door to the bedroom. As soon as he stood on the doorstep, the smells of blood and the wound-cleansing potion hit him. They attacked Teddy too, making him grimace with displeasure at the intensity of the scents.

Severus was hidden behind the drawn hangings of the four-poster, isolated from the rest of the room and probably sleeping.

As Remus strode across towards Teddy’s room, he identified another substance, which brought the hospital wing to his mind. Namely, it was the mixture Pomfrey used to apply onto his skin after the transformations.

 _It’s lacerations, then_ – he judged knowingly. _Circe, I hope they’re not from a werewolf_. _He was in the Forest today, wasn’t he?_ Of course, it wasn’t the Full Moon and the barrier mustn’t have been taken down on a whim. Nevertheless, Remus had only been told scraps (“There are no wolves there, anymore.”) about the pack that had inhabited the woods before, so, naturally, he couldn’t eliminate that possibility.

Why Severus wasn’t in the wing itself was another riddle, though a less difficult one. According to Hagrid, he was once brought into the hospital wing “drawin’ his las’ breath” and tried to return to his chambers less than twenty-four hours later.

_If that doesn’t scream control issues..._

Though then again, Remus perfectly understood the sense of powerlessness that came from having to be assisted by other people. It had taken him ages to learn to be able to accept help. Still, that skill of his needed honing, if his intrusive thoughts in the last few months were any evidence. Even now – part of him wanted to help out of pure concern, the other – as a way of fractionally returning a favour.

After Teddy had drifted away into the land of dreams, Remus entered _Severus’_ bedroom again. Not wanting to disturb him by walking every which way while he slept, Remus decided to go take a shower already, to limit his excursions through the room. His hand was curled around the handle of the door to the bathroom already, when a quiet voice reached him.

“Fran—kie?” Severus croaked, on the verge of audibility. He must have heard the intruder and apparently wasn’t in the right mind to surmise that the someone, walking instead of apparating, must have been Lupin.

“It’s not her. It’s me – Remus.”

An unmeaning grunt followed that answer, but Remus chose not to leave yet. “Do you need something?”

“F—“ The consonant came in a whizz.

“Shall I call her?” Remus inquired, not sure why the elf’s magic would not inform her of her master attempting to call her, but willing to help.

The hangings of the four-poster were pulled apart with a flutter, revealing Severus’ pale face buried in all the black. A bandage, rather sloppily wrapped, crowned his head, defined in spotless white on his hair.

Instead of speaking over his shoulder, Remus turned to him fully. In that moment red, glimmering letters began appearing in the air in front of him. Severus, apparently, had exhausted his ability to speak.

 _“No need”._ Severus was making subtle movements with his wand and thus the writing came out very _his,_ but Remus managed to decipher it.

“Okay then. So, you’re unable to speak—“ Remus began and Severus, although clearly strained, managed to find the energy to send him a condescending look. “—Well, yes, I know, how amazingly bright I am, no need to say it. Not that you could—“ he added, a tad cattily. He could see in the gleam of the dissipating letters that this made Severus’ mouth curve slightly. “Mind if I ask what happened?”

Slowly and with effort, Severus drew another message composed of flaming-red words. _“My Lord’s wrath obviously – But nothing dangerous”._ He waited for them to disappear, seemingly unable to lift his hand any higher to write another line.

Remus discerned to himself, that ‘danger’ was clearly a relative term. Severus’ short account of the events only confirmed him in that opinion. _“Yilan strangled me – not to murder – And before that – Dementors”._

“Oh hell—“ Remus said, not quite eloquently (though with conviction). “Well then, you definitely should sleep it off. Do you need anything?”

Severus considered him seriously for a moment, then lifted his wand again. _“Murtlap – if you could”._ At the end his hand shook a bit, making the ‘d’ turn into another ‘l’. Therefore, Remus guessed that apart from the snake attack and the cuts hidden somewhere under the covers, he had also been hit with the Cruciatus.

 _Honestly, it’s almost as if he’s collecting injuries on purpose!_ Remus felt reproach and concern twist and mingle in his gut. Before Severus could change his mind on the matter, which he seemed to be on the verge of doing, he stated, “Of course. Only I don’t think I know the password to the laboratory.”

Severus’ already ashen skin turned even greyer as he blushed in the twilight. He didn’t start writing, leaving Remus to wonder what kind of password would have made him so abashed. “I can send Frankie in, just as well.” Remus offered considerately. “Unless it’s making the solution that you want me to do.”

“F—“ another whistling sound escaped Severus. Once again having forgotten about his muteness, he might have been trying to say ‘fuck’.

_“Solution – 25 th of June”_

Remus forced himself to smile politely and not smugly. However, it was likely that in the mild darkness Severus wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, so he added, “No problem. Anything for that throat of yours? Or has Frankie brought that already?”

_“I’ll do that – tomorrow”._

“Excuse me?” Remus shook his head, “The only thing you may be doing tomorrow is going to Madame Pomfrey – though I know **you** probably won’t do that... Actually… this is a great answer to our problem – I’ll send Frankie to get you something for it!”

Severus’ face darkened and the snarky retort almost materialised itself on it. Remus didn’t even have to see him clearly to know that much. Now, however, he held over him the advantage of speaking and, as Severus began writing, Remus interrupted again. “It’s not demeaning to need help, Severus, it really isn’t. And you should rest, not stand for hours, making potions.”

Severus’ hand fell onto the bed as the unfinished _“You a—“_ diffused into bright red mist and then into clear air, though he did not cease glowering at Remus.

“No answer means ‘yes’ in the current circumstances, I’m assuming?” Remus queried to give him a chance to protest categorically if he really wished to savour his pain that much.

In response, Severus lifted his wand. For a moment, he had managed to trick Remus into expecting another set of red letters to appear. Then, he closed the hangings.

“And that’s just plain rude—“ Remus said, though smiling to himself, as he left the room to head to the laboratory.

The password, he recognised, though Severus’ embarrassment was a great hint in that, was the date on which Snape adopted Teddy. _God, he’s such a soft fool sometimes._ – Remus thought fondly, opening the doors.

\---

The orderliness of the laboratory impressed Remus and made it easier for him to find himself in there. Despite that, he spent the greater part of his evening working on the solution. By the time he had finished, Frankie had long since came back from the Hospital Wing with the medicine for Severus' throat. According to her, Master was already sleeping, so she left it in _his_ bedroom.

Remus exited the lab with a flask filled with murtlap and added it to the collection of bottles on the desk.

The room was still engulfed in darkness, filled with the loud, raspy breaths. Remus left a short note on the desk along with the essence. Next, he went to take a shower and finally go to sleep.

He landed in his bed a little later than he normally would have. Still, he was glad to have been of service. It wasn't often that it was Severus who needed him, not the other way round. _It wasn't ever, until now, actually._

The feeling of self-satisfied joy at the work he'd done was quickly clouded by his worries. He still hadn’t gotten used to the containment of his claustrophobic room on nights other than the Full Moon ones. Thus, it was even easier for sleeplessness to grip him. He kept pondering over Severus’ injuries and the possible causes of Voldemort’s fury. Any inquiring about Severus’ state, however, had to wait at least until tomorrow.

Typically, Remus’ restlessness would have been cancelled out by his exhaustion from the recent transformation. This time, for reasons unknown to him, he felt more energised than he had ever done this soon after it. For once, that was a very unwelcome effect.

He was switching from one side to another in a pointless quest of finding a position in which he'd feel calm enough to fall asleep. Suddenly, a rumble issued from behind the wall separating him from the bathroom.

The sound was muffled. Even Remus probably wouldn't have noticed it, hadn't it been for his brain focusing on ways to disturb his rest. Yet, it couldn’t be good news he heard something at all. He hadn’t been so much as able to hear the gurgling of water coming from there ever before. Therefore, this noise must have been loud.

Since today his instinct had so far proven right, Remus listened to it again. He rolled to the edge of the bed and dragged himself out of his room.

Severus' bedroom was quiet, with only Remus' own footsteps breaking the stillness of it. The stertorous breathing was gone. The hangings over the four-poster were drawn, but one of them, at the head of the bed, was rumpled and partly drooping from the nightstand.

A very thin stripe of light lurked underneath the bathroom door. Remus walked up there and knocked. It wasn't until the second knock, followed, of course, by the lack of an answer, that he realised Severus wasn't able to give him one if he wanted. The door wasn't exactly imperturbable, but he would have to yell to be heard. In his current state that was definitely impossible.

Remus did not want to go back to his room without ensuring everything was alright. He even **couldn’t** do that now. He had already announced his presence, so then it would’ve been apparent what had brought him here. He sat down on the chair by the desk, waiting. Surely, Severus would vacate the room soon, if he was okay.

When the door wasn't opening for a while, which felt like half a night, the anxiety began getting better of Remus. _What if he blacked out? Or hit his head with something?_

 _Or maybe he's simply taking a shower and the thud from earlier was nothing dangerous?_ He tried to reason with himself. Then, however, his mind presented him with a vision of Severus bleeding out onto the beige tiles, unable to call for help. _Not that I'm even sure he would've if he could._ Before he knew what he was doing, Remus was standing by the bathroom door again.

His hand coiled around the handle and, very gingerly, Remus pressed it down. He was standing in a pose that guaranteed he wouldn't see into the room immediately and opened the door slowly. In case Severus was there, all fine and conscious, he wanted to allow him to stop his intrusion. 

No counter came from the inside the bathroom – neither a spell, a tug at the handle, nor a wheezed out swear word.

At first, Remus saw the pieces of glass covering the floor, reflecting the golden light madly, in a tumble of bright flecks dancing all over the room. His throat clenched a little, but he swallowed hardly and stepped to the side. Finally, he was able to locate the dark figure of Severus glaring against all the sunny hues.

He was huddled on the tiles, hunched and with his arms wrapped around his knees. He gave no sign of having heard Remus enter. The locks falling onto his forehead from underneath the bandage hid his face from Remus’ sight. All of his hair glistened in the abundance of fractured light, as if ineptly trying to fit in with the glimmers emanating from the shards. Severus was sitting in about the biggest cluster of glass around. Clearly, he hadn’t had either the energy or the will to fix that.

_And of course he's sitting there barefoot! Merlin, his negligence of his own wellbeing…_

Remus assessed Severus wasn’t hurt in any way that required immediate attention. To prevent this from changing, he pointed his wand at the golden frame of a mirror, leaning against the steps to the bathtub. It was lifted up, then flew back onto its proper place above the sink. The pieces of glass began flying back into it with a crackling sound.

The smash caused Severus to raise his head ever so slightly. Momentarily, a snip of his ashen skin glimpsed above the crumpled barrier of sleeves. Remus took that as an invitation to speak to him.

“I was waiting for the bathroom for a while—“ he explained his intrusion, “Are you okay?”

The whites of Severus' eyes flashed over his arm before he began writing, twisting his wrist at a visibly uncomfortable angle. Remus, meanwhile, took a timid step towards him. The doe in Severus didn't seem eager to run from him. Quite the opposite – while he focused on writing, he lowered the wall of his limbs guarding him against _me? The world in general, probably._

Uncharacteristically for himself, Severus met his gaze only for a short moment. _“Do I fucking look okay?”_ The scarlet letters shimmered in the air on the dark grey background of his nightshirt.

“Honestly you don't.” Remus said, forcing a facetious note over the concerned one.

It was true. He didn’t even have to see his entire expression to know Severus **looked** like he was hurting and denying himself the right to actually act like it. He appeared beaten and not solely in the physical aspect of the word. Whatever had happened in here with Albus' mirror, it was likely to have been an accident, which brought him down a bit.

“—though I'm sure it's nothing that can't be fixed.” Remus added, succeeding at a reassuring smile.

Severus began writing again. The effort he was putting in that was disproportionate to the due effect. He was manoeuvring his wrist unnaturally, probably to keep it supported by his knees, and still, the lettering came out rather wobbly. _“Agree & disagree”._

Having walked up another two strides to him, Remus was now happy to realise Severus didn't mind the proximity. He had put his wand hand down onto the floor and finally fully showed his face. Remus looked at him gently.

A grimace was twisting his lips and although Severus tried to turn it into a smirk, he'd failed miserably. By the unhealthy scarlet flush ruling over his cheeks, Remus judged that the tidal wave of pain had waited to attack him at nighttime. He crouched next to him, so that Severus wouldn’t have to crane his neck. On this level, he saw his eyes, still bloodshot. Now it could hardly be attributed to him having rolled them. Carmine veins writhing around the voids of his irises were just another sign of his exhaustion. All his injuries were preventing him from sleeping restfully, if not – at all.

"You know what I said about help, earlier, right? I believe you should go to the hospital wing." Remus voiced his thoughts.

Severus shook his head, carefully. The messily tied bandage dangled with the movement.

"Okay then. Call Frankie at least—“ Remus dared to suggest. Maybe the elf wasn’t the best nurse available, but she definitely was better than nothing. “—to help you apply the murtlap—“

Another silent, letterless no.

"—or to get you something to drink for the pain – there’s no analgesics in the lab, as far as my knowledge goes, but she could go to Pomfrey again—“

This time Severus didn't even have to resolve to more apparent gestures. Just the sceptic narrowing of his eyes conveyed his refusal perfectly.

Remus, remembering it was his help Severus had, if begrudgingly, accepted earlier, volunteered, "Or I could prepare something. If you tell me where to find instructions. Or with the bandage at least…” Severus stared at him, visibly bemused. Immediately, Remus amended, "—I mean of course, I'll understand completely if you don't want me to. A—and especially after Teddy's birthday, but—“ he broke off, realising he was probably digging his own grave on the subject. If Severus hadn't been concerned about a romantic subtext in his interest in his wellbeing, now he definitely would be. Nevertheless, Remus foolishly chanced, “If you let me, I'll take care of you—“ ending on a questioning note.

After silently surveying him for a while with his brows knitted, Severus shook his head for the third time.

Remus sprung to his feet.

_I shouldn't have... I bloody damn shouldn't suggest anything that may involve me touching him..._

Severus' left hand twitched a little, but it fell back, when Remus said rashly, “Okay then. If you need anything – you know where to find me.”

Although not feeling like it, he embellished his words with a polite smile; he didn't, however, wait for any response. It was hard enough watching Severus in pain, he didn’t want to feed his own mind with the interpretation of his current grimace. The fetid whispers lecturing him on why Severus would rather avoid having him looking to his injuries had already infested his head.

_Personal pride is one thing; a werewolf meddling with open wounds is another._

Remus had already turned to leave, when a flutter by his ear halted him before the exit. His head swivelled towards the subtle noise.

A twinkle of black-white-and-orange landed on his instinctively raised hand. The moth settled on his fingers, then disappeared into thin air. Remus twisted his neck back towards Severus and without surprise saw his wand unsheathed.

 _“I'll let you”_ the message appeared.

“Okay then.” Remus agreed again, now with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “If you’re not in the right state of mind to decide now—“ he amended mockingly upon seeing Severus’ condescending frown. “—though I’m not sure we could, actually postpone this conversation much...” He intended to lighten the mood, speaking with more confidence than he actually felt. This made Severus’ expression change into a more taunting one, though it didn’t soften in terms of the wince.

“On with the bandage then, I suppose.” Remus then announced, fervently leeching onto the work to be done in hopes of suppressing his dubiety. He disinfected his hands and searched around for the bottle of murtlap he was sure Severus had brought with him. He found the flask standing on the shelf above the sink and grabbed it. “If you could... move so that I can access the wound—“

Severus stood up with concentration, the effort of it temporarily turning his skin even more vivid with the contrast of red and white. Remus was on the verge of asking him to sit down again. However, seeing that Severus halted directly before the mirror, he realised it was a strategic decision. This way they could communicate and he could have some control over Remus’ ministrations.

The pair of onyxes surveyed him in the mirror and, for a second, Severus seemed positively sceptic about the realism of this situation.

The bandage, Remus discovered, wasn't cleanly white all over. When he stepped behind Severus, he could see the dark, brownish blotch in the back of it. His hand bogged in the air just short of grazing the black hair. “Can I touch you?” he asked, still tentatively.

Again, an expression Remus didn’t recognise suffused Severus’ features, like a slightly softened frown of irritation of his. He wrote something, then drew an intricate line over the letters, making them turn into their mirror image. _“If you must”_ Remus read easily.

"Okay then." he said, placing his hand down.

Severus put his hand into the air with its fingers splayed and rolled his eyes. It took Remus a moment to decipher that. Then, he smiled, content that Severus wasn't in a mood bad enough not to be needlessly snarky.

“Well, what am I supposed to say? Fine works too I guess. Or would you prefer something negative? Wrong, then?” Remus brushed away those of the hairs that managed to escape the imprisonment underneath the dressing. _Since when does he keep it so long? –_ he wondered, gathering them from Severus’ nape.

Next, he started unwrapping the bandage.

Theoretically, it could have been done with magic. That method, however, would be less controllable and thus, less delicate. Severus, though watching him with rapt attention and a quite apprehensive look on his pained face, didn't have any complaints against his choice. Remus was being extremely cautious. Every now and then, he shot glances at the mirror to check whether Severus wasn’t disapproving of his ministrations. The last thing he wanted was for him to get hurt in the process in any way.

Finally, he got to the last layer of the dressing. It had been soaked with blood so much that it had stuck itself to the skin. Below it, some more locks were hiding – yet another proof of Frankie's lack of professionalism or Severus' hastiness. Now, they were probably clotted with blood and glued to the wound along with the fabric. When Remus tried to prise the swathe, he felt under his left hand how his 'patient's' muscles tensed. This brought his attention to how his hand was _unnecessarily_ resting on Severus' nape in the first place. Nevertheless, now it proved useful. His grimace of aching seemed quite ever-present, so it couldn't serve as an indicator for Remus, but this definitely was one.

Remus took out his wand. “I'm going to dampen it, so that it doesn't hurt when I tear it of—“ he answered Severus' questioning gaze.

“I can—“ escaped Severus, in more a quiet whimper than actual words.

 _I can take a bit of pain._ – Remus completed. "Of course you can, but you don't have to." he replied, directing his wand at the reddened material. Severus gave out a deep, hoarse sigh. Then, Remus cast a variation of Aguamenti, which filled the air around Severus' head with light mist.

The bandage soaked the small droplets in quickly. When the hue of the fabric darkened, Remus slid his wand back into his pocket. This time, the gauze came off easily; Remus took it off and threw it away. 

The wound wasn't deep, but it was, so far, cicatrizing terribly, with no signs of healing around its edges. It was a pity Severus hadn't sought help earlier, which would have prevented the scarring. But then again – _he hasn't sought help at all, has he? If I haven't offered he'd never have asked._

“Could you please lower your head a bit?” Remus commanded politely, pressing his fingers to Severus' scalp to hold his hair away from the wound.

Severus leaned, so that his head was almost parallel to the floor now and Remus put a few droplets of the solution onto his skin. The wound began sealing instantly. Once it had closed, he traced the fresh scar with his fingertips to evaluate the healing. Severus sighed quietly again.

The hair, which Remus had peeled away from the gash, was still glued together into a Babbitt. “Would you mind if I tried to detangle what's been bloodied up?” he offered, gently combing the wisps with his fingers. Not all of them were easily separable.

Severus shook his head, thus agreeing.

Remus told him to sit on the steps to the bathtub and kneeled beside him. Instead of using the golden taps, he settled for his wand. Gently rubbing the conjoint hairs with one hand, he guided the jet of water onto them. As the flakes of dried blood began detaching themselves from the elflock, he washed them away with a trickle of warm water. While rinsing the blood of his skin as well, Remus massaged his scalp below the former wound. Severus’ wry expression barely gave room to it, but he seemed fairly pleased.

When Remus had finished, he switched off the stream coming from the tip of his wand. Then, threading his fingers through Severus' hair, he checked whether it had been detangled thoroughly. Wet, it was cold and sleek, curling against Remus' skin like a swarm of black water snakes. When Remus peered at his face, it wasn’t showing a single positive emotion anymore, but Severus leaned back to the touch.

Remus tried to deduce whether he liked it, but truth was – Severus completely confused him when it came to interpretations of this kind. Today, as if their communication hadn't been already complicated enough, Remus didn't even have his voice to catch the emotions within. Therefore, Remus couldn’t gauge whether he was enjoying or barely tolerating the tenderness in his caring. He assumed the former, but it always could just be his hopes mixing with conjectures.

“Okay, all done.” Remus declared after a while, putting the towel away. He eyed the flask faltering in a risky spot on the edge of the bathtub and leaned to remove it from there. “I think there’s way enough murtlap left for the rest of your wounds—“

Severus, who was just standing up, turned abruptly, tottering. Remus’ hand landed on his waist exactly when Severus' fingers clamped around his other arm for support.

“Ss—“ Severus hissed out, either attempting to apologise or to curse.

“You just stood up too fast." Remus assured him, loosening the grip over his robe as Severus straightened. “I’m guessing you haven't eaten much today, if at all…” Severus skipped the breakfast with him and Teddy before leaving in the morning and most likely didn't get to eat dinner either. This could have caused his vertigo. “—Have you?”

Remus might have chafed one of the wounds hiding underneath his nightshirt, because Severus bit his lip again. It added grotesquely to his grimace. Now a less feverish hue spread over the scarlet on his skin. His eyes were half-closed however, as if he was more tired than embarrassed.

Once he'd ensured he could keep a vertical position all by himself, Severus took his hand off Remus' arm and shrugged wearily. Slowly, he then began writing. _“Wounds – how do you know? And no – not that it is any of your business.”_ The red letters shimmered in two rows.

“It was the disinfecting potion and a mixture I know quite well, the one with dittany, in the room when I first entered.”

Severus sat on the marble steps again and Remus did the same thing; they were close to each other but not touching. Remus was afraid to accidentally cross some kind of an invisible line ever again. Severus had his eyes trained on the lower part of the newly re-hanged mirror's frame. Remus on the other hand, couldn't stop himself from looking over to him even when there were no words for him to read yet.

“ _Tell me—_ “ Severus wrote at an odd angle, indecipherably until he propelled the caption towards Remus. _“—why did you never go into healing, except for ineptness at brewing obviously? Your murtlap stings more than it has the right to”._

Either he was already feeling better, or was very determined to write a flippant snarl despite his pain. The fatigued, but now less distorted smirk on his face was another proof that he was being restored to his typical bright self.

“Like you said—I mean, wrote—I suck at potions. I also happen to be a creature of the darkness, which people wouldn't let close to their medicine, not to mention their ill family members.” Remus replied with a somewhat bitter smile, not meeting the black eyes, which now, he sensed, were locked on his face.

 _Oh Severus, aren't you, the man who panicked at a werewolf kissing him, the absolute worst person to talk about that to..._ Once again, there was a logical fallacy to Severus’ behaviour on the matter. It was that, it must have been **that** , back then and yet he was sitting inches from Remus, accepting, if not liking, the caring attention, and earlier – the touch of _a werewolf._

In Severus' grand tradition of changing the subject, Remus reminded, “What about your other wounds, by the way?”

Severus shrugged again, this time with more fervency and a subsequent wince. _“That I'll deal with myself”._

“Of course.” Remus agreed immediately, feeling attacked by the mere notion he could have suggested any other option. Maybe a part of him had done exactly that (and kept its fingers crossed Severus wouldn't have refused it). The rest of him, however, was realistic enough to know he would never have said yes to that.

They sat in silence again, with just the peaceful, golden-filled quietness of the chamber filling the air. Neither of them seemed to mind the silence.

In the end, Remus was the one to break it. Deciding he should leave Severus to his healing, he scrambled up to his feet. The fathomless eyes shifted from the decor of the bathroom and onto him. Severus raised his brow, as if genuinely surprised to see him go.

“Goodnight, I suppose.” Remus said, bordering on an apologetic tone. “Please take what Frankie brought, too. It's a Pratearia solution, probably with something to further smoothen the effect out… Should give you back your lost voice by tomorrow, according to Pomfrey.” This time he waited patiently for a response before leaving.

 _“You make it sound like I’m a mermaid from that muggle tale – And I do find that offensive”_ Severus wrote, smiling with irony again. Coyly, almost. _“Night – Remus”_ he finished and waved his hand as a sign he had nothing more to add.

Remus went back to his room, wondering if it was at his muggle grandma’s that Severus had read Andersen’s stories. Simultaneously, he asked himself whether either of them would ever be able to read them to Teddy. He hadn't even lied down yet when it got to him that he now did actually need to use the toilet. _Well, of bloody course._

Sure he wouldn't be able sleep with his bladder full, he lit the room. Then, he sat by the small desk and opened the highest drawer on the right. He supposed it would take Severus a while to use the potion on the who-knew-how-many injuries buried underneath his robe. Thus, aiming to take his mind off of the need, Remus started drawing.

He had just finished shading Molly's hair in a portrait of the Burrows' locators, when the door opened. Quite suddenly reminded Severus had the password to the room too, he jumped in his seat in shock.

 _“You were – supposedly – waiting to use the bathroom”._ The letters were already hovering in the air in front of Severus. From the crooked smile to the lopsidedly raised brow, his face ( _not so damn cryptic when he doesn't want it to be_ ) told he hadn’t bought that excuse for one second.

“Actually, I still am.” Remus replied, almost triumphant that it was the truth. Quickly, he shuffled away the parchment and the coal before standing up. “Thanks for taking the trouble to come up here to tell me.”

 _“Don't be ridiculous”_ Severus wrote in a rapid, harsh movement of his wand, though his expression remained calmly mocking.

Remus took that as a thank you. 

\---

When he was returning from the bathroom, though not before he'd cast off the lights in it, Remus inspected the vials on the desk. Upon counting them, he concluded Severus had ignored his previous advice. _Now I know why he always suspects I wouldn’t take Wolfsbane if left to that on my own._

Severus would have done the same in his position, though probably in a much harsher manner. Knowing that, Remus wagered a questioning whisper, “Severus, are you asleep yet?”

His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness he had just left himself in, when the rasp of pulled apart hangings answered him. _“What?”_ appeared by the left side of the bed, even before Severus' pale face fully dug itself out of the piles of black.

“Well you were supposed to take the—“ _bloody_ “—potion. Which you didn't do.”

Severus had hoisted himself into a half-sitting position. If Remus’ freshly blinded eyes weren’t deceiving him, he gave a small shrug upon those words. _“I did not? Oh well”._

Never had Remus seen such nonchalance emanating from written text. _Honestly, how many children do I have?_ He summoned one of the bottles to himself and went up to the bed. “Haven't eaten either, have you?” he asked, quite rhetorically, while sliding the vial between Severus' cold fingers.

As he predicted, Severus shook his head, rather fecklessly. The vial, on the other hand, he seemed eager to put away on the nightstand instead of uncorking it.

“You know what—“ Remus began, mobilising all the sternness he had in him to tamp it into his tone. “—since you're so damn negligent about it, I'll bloody see to you doing it. And you should eat now. Maybe that's not exactly healthy, but it sure as hell is healthier than acting like Dementors, Crucio and all other shit’s got nothing on you.”

To Severus his face was likely bleary, but Remus was sure he was frowning deeply. _Is it so fucking hard to understand I want you alive and well, even though you, apparently, aren't sure that's worth the effort when it comes to it?_

All Severus' mentions of dying resurfaced in his mind earlier, when he saw his anguished face in the bathroom. They still were there now, when he shoved the bottle of medicine into his hand again. “I'm going to the kitchen for food. I swear I won't leave you in peace until you eat something—“ he then threatened.

Their eyes met briefly and Remus saw that incredulous, unknown mien sneaking through Severus' face once more. Although, maybe he was just imagining it in the deceptive twilight. Either way, as he walked out of the room, he heard gulping behind him.

He came back holding a chocolate bar. Honestly, he wasn't sure why this was the thing he'd decided to bring in. After all, he was well aware of Severus' disregard for the sweeter things in life, more or less literally.

Severus, however, had his ideas on the matter. _“If you still consider that an antidote for Demen—“_ he started scribbling, before Remus interrupted.

“I do, actually.” he said, defensively. “You don't seem all too affected by that of all your maladies today, though. So I mostly brought it because it’s – well not nutritious, but gives energy – and is convenient.” He put the bar onto Severus’ open palm.

Severus was eyeing the Honeydukes product with his brow furrowed, as if it was an unknown potion worth examining, but not necessarily – ingesting. “It’s only harmful to dogs, Severus, not even to werewolves, last time I checked. Don’t know about bats or snakes, though, whichever you identify as—“ Remus heartened him jokingly.

It was either a muffled snort of laughter or another strident breath that came from Severus’ direction. His hand trembled a little with it and the bar’s slick wrapping almost caused it to slide out from the cage of his fingers. Apparently, Remus managed to convince him that a row or two won’t hurt him, since Severus began breaking the bar into pieces. During that, he was looking at Lupin, as if to say, “See, I’m not going to try to hoodwink you on this one.”

Still, it wasn’t until he actually tore the wrapper open, that Remus found it fit to vacate the room. “Goodnight, Severus.”

 _“What immense trustfulness – Lupin”_ Severus wrote in response.

“Well, at this point I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt to act older than a squeamish four year old—“ Remus informed, with an amused smile. “That’s not to say I’d be surprised to wake up tomorrow and find out you haven’t actually eaten a thing or drunk the next portion of the meds—“

 _“Actual 4 year olds supposedly enjoy this impious variation on cacao seed”_. The, ridiculously ominous, letters swarmed him, again in two rows, though with a bit of delay this time. Severus was tiring himself out with the writing. When he tried to coordinate that and extending his hand holding the chocolate towards Remus, it gave a minimal jerk. _“Any help on that?”_

“I’m not entirely sure I should deprive you of your anti-Dementor medicine—“ Remus bantered, stepping towards the bed to take a square.

While he did so, Severus patted the duvet with his wand. He was staring right at Remus and the motion was impossible to misinterpret. Remus’ inner voice, which had a lot to say on the matter of his wolfishness, was promptly shouted over and he sat down. Still, he couldn’t restrain himself from ascertaining, “May I?”

A waggle of brows complimented with rapid blinking, which signalised him rolling his eyes yet again, said the “Obviously” Severus couldn’t.

Remus cosied himself on the verge of the bed, next to the hill of Severus’ knees dammed underneath the duvet. Again, the comfortable silence fell. Remus ‘helped’ him with another two pieces or so and watched the faked disgust persist on his features. Despite his reluctance towards the sweet, Severus was already halfway through the bar, when his hands shook involuntarily again.

His right arm got affected most. Remus noticed his fingers tense in a grasping-like manner far above the shimmery wrapping. Instantly, that was followed by the hollow choir of chocolate squares falling onto the bed.

One of the pieces bounced against the mattress and up to the edge of it.

Both of them wandless and quite fast in their reactions, immediately bent towards it. They butted heads over it; Remus – with the runaway square clasped between his fingers. Then, he leaned back and saw Severus’ face, once again bathed in the greyness of a blush.

Severus had another piece concealed between the creases of the duvet around his waist and as soon as he saw it, Remus reached for it. He knew Severus was watching him do that, as attentively as the twilight allowed it. Evidently, he didn’t mind. His wand-hand remained limply resting where it had earlier tried to outpace Remus’. It could all be solved with a spell, without so much ado. Yet, Remus relished in the ado, collecting the scattered squares, all five of them, manually.

While throwing them into the handed-out packaging, he intentionally grazed the rough back of Severus’ hand. He let his fingers linger on the cold skin, waiting for a reaction. Severus froze for a second. Then, swiftly, his left hand found Remus’ knee and he caressed his thigh further up, until Remus decided to distract him from that, leaning in and cupping his sharp chin.

From up close, he could distinguish the – impossibly, even more intense – blackness in the centre of Severus’ eyes. His tongue appeared between his thin lips, licking them and leaving them parted. However, Remus wouldn’t let himself make the mistake of assuming anything again. “Blink three times if I can kiss you, if I won’t scare you again—“ he whispered. At the same time, he was inwardly wondering _what the hell am I getting myself into if I have to ask whether he fears me?_

Severus blinked in agreement, long lashes fluttering with the repeated movement. An uncalled for smirk bloomed onto his lips; now Remus didn’t hesitate to wipe it off. He kissed him, hungrily almost. Fittingly, because his mouth tasted sweetly, of chocolate and the pine syrup that served as the base of Pomfrey’s throat solution.

Hearing the soft thud of the bar sliding from Severus’ fingers, Remus let go of his hand, and dipped his own into the waves of his still wet hair. He tried to be careful with him, but the heat of the moment got the best of him. What he heard when he accidentally touched his freshly sealed wound, was surely a quiet whimper of pain. Nevertheless, trusting that Severus would push him away if he did anything wrong, he let the wooziness overcome him. His best judgement flew away with the tide, swapped for a dire, pressing need to feel Severus’ touch – all over him, if possible.

Severus was no less ardent than he was. Lacing his quivering fingers over the back of Remus’ neck, he pulled him closer. Then, his freezing hands slid underneath Remus’ robe ( _which he_ _of all people definitely knows how to easily take off_ ), as he kissed him above the line of his beard.

Remus was simultaneously drowning in the sensation of Severus’ _cold, always so cold,_ mouth against his skin and awaiting a sudden leap into protest from him.

In the end, it was Remus who put his arm between them.

Severus released his ear from under his lips and lifted his hand from Remus’ thigh. Before he slumped back against the pillows, he looked at Remus dazedly, but with a question emerging from the chasms of his eyes. Meanwhile, a gallery of Severus’ repulsed twitches and grimaces played before Remus’.

Mixed feelings swirling in him, Remus stood up.


	19. The Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, also known as: there might be stuff that could theoretically be classified as 'explicit' crammed into this chapter. However, I cannot tell for sure, because you can only read the envelope thing on tumblr so many times before becoming inevitably disgusted with the concept of letters. So, for now I'm not changing the rating or anything, but if you disagree with that, please hit me up 

Lupin really liked unwittingly torturing him.

“As for someone so observant, you are exceptionally oblivious sometimes—” he had said. Severus could repeat that back to him a hundred times on this matter.

Like when, after spending the whole evening on helping him ( _and why? because I am an emotion-driven moron lately)_ and with Severus’ hand between his thighs, Remus still needed it announced out loud he didn’t want him to go back to that goddamned room.

Severus had had the medicine-skipping business calculated well, at least as well as his brain, consumed by the fever from the wounds let him. However, Lupin slid out of those predictions with all the rich bunches of qualms of his. Maybe it just was his hobby to be unpredictable. Today he certainly had been, so far.

Either way, now Severus had to work out a solution to that impromptu change.

One-syllable words should be the easiest ones to say. Yet, they had amongst them a whole legion of ones difficult to utter. “Stay—“ which Severus croaked when Remus stood up from the bed, clearly ready to leave him alone in it again, was a notable example. He had to say, not write it. Otherwise, he would have the invaluable time to think it through and it would never leave the realm of his head.

“Are you sure you want me to?” Remus doubted, his eyes opening impossibly wider.

 _Why else would I ask?_ – Severus would have written to win back at least a piece of the shield of sarcasm guarding him. If only it wasn’t so much trouble to draw his wand…

Part of him wanted to strangle Remus, be it with a kiss or a rope, for such lack of comprehension. The other – to shout at him about what had happened in the Forest and just how _fucking sure_ he was of everything now. He certainly was sure, sure enough to smother what was left of his reason with the scorching heat of Remus’ skin underneath his lips.

Severus was an idiot to have hopes, of any sort. Even more of a fool for wanting to experience this at all, when all it could do was endanger the both of them – either mentally strain _or just kill_ , as he saw it. And yet, he had never in his life given a nod more fervent than this one. He immediately regretted that, since it forced him to remember about the mementos both his Lord’s snakes had left him with.

Remus sat next to him again, needlessly cautious not to so much as shove him lightly. He placed himself so that he was just-short-of leaning against Severus’ legs. However, he did not return to kissing him, nor did he let Severus touch the slightly taut fabric of his night robe again.

“You know you should rest—” Remus said in a husky whisper, holding his hand away from himself almost forcefully. His mouth was torturously close to Severus’ face. “Besides, you haven’t even finished eating—“ he added with a solicitous smile, in which even Severus couldn’t detect any notes of malice.

Then, once again Remus proved his instinctive knack for doing exactly what would make Severus’ insides squirm, then melt only to reshape and twist somewhere under his damaged throat, like some snake with phoenix-like qualities.

Severus had always believed it somewhat indecent for adults to like sweets. Perhaps it came from the comical aspect of having to go to Dumbledore’s office multiple times a month. Their dark discussions were always pre-empted with a preposterous name of a candy, whatever Albus had chosen at the time. That was not so amusing whenever it was deaths or tortures Severus was reporting about. Or perhaps this dislike had been born even earlier – he couldn’t recall.

Either way, if that in itself was indecent, then having Remus feed him pieces of chocolate was the very top of attainable indecency. He was doing it under the pretence of Severus having to “Take it easy with holding things, don’t you think?”

He had actually tired himself out with all the writing, so the lack of having to coordinate his movements was very much appreciated. So was the sensation of Remus’ fingers on his lips. Due to that, he didn’t have it in him to protest against that offer. He had agreed to this unreliable “way of restoring his energy” in the first place solely because it meant Lupin would probably stick around for longer. _And he had, oh he had..._

_\---_

Frankie had a tongue too loose not to have told him in unnecessary detail how Lupin asked about him. According to her, it was with controlled panic jacking his voice. Unlike him, Severus was prudent enough to make her promise she wouldn’t go straight back to ‘sir Remus’ and tell, in turn, what her Master had wanted to know.

The bathroom in the Headmaster’s chambers had always looked as if Albus had been a particularly human-looking Niffler. Severus didn’t really need any more reasons to hate it. Then, he slipped in that goddamned bauble of a chamber. Tired, he sat there, cursing the place and everything else, when Remus ran to his aid.

Severus had already been on the same page with Voldemort on the matter of his today’s punishment. He deserved it. Now, another reason justifying it having happened appeared – all this gave him a way to verify a theory of his.

Lupin passed that ‘test’, so to call it, with colours not only flying, but far too blinding in Severus’ opinion.

He ‘cared’; _he said it himself._ Certainly, he gave more of a damn about his wellbeing than Severus was used to anyone doing. Remus had his obvious causes for this, since his own survival was so tightly interconnected with Severus’. However, it didn’t **seem** like this was his only reason.

That, of course, guaranteed nothing. Their situation was undeniably temporary, thus anything starting during it would be only a surrogate of a relationship. However, it wasn’t like Severus wasn’t used to having that and nothing more. This ‘ _thing’_ would differ from the others – in how Remus was willing to play-pretend a family, for the time being at least.

Severus hated himself for having to admit that, but he was willing to cater to his own delusions, much less to Remus’. He was still deeply convinced he (or both of them), would get hurt in the process. At the same time, that alone was in store for him in any case scenario, from the looks of it.

If he needed a reminder of that, today’s events could serve at the perfect one.

He accepted his Lord’s punishment fully. Yet, his understanding of his transgression differed from His. He blamed himself for risking so much, especially since it was for the self-serving sake of finding an outlet to his rage and confusion. He ignored his Lord’s orders and fucked up, majorly. In the process, he had endangered the two people, who as he’d just been enlightened by the silvery canine – ‘made him happy’.

Umbridge’s son and Yaxley (so – the one aggrieved by Severus and his superior) were the ones his Lord had chosen to exact justice on him. Yilan He added seemingly just for the amusing aspect of it.

Much later, Severus cherished that at least it was not the Carrows, or anyone else from Hogwarts grounds. It could still be possible for him to hide this from all of them. When in his bed in the chambers, he already began devising plans to (yet again) prove himself to his Lord. Even his head pulsating with ache could not stop him from that. Yet, back when he had been left on the floor a bleeding, trembling mess, coughing carmine onto the stone floor, his thoughts weren’t so complex. Quite the opposite – all he could think of was that if he had just lost his Lord’s grace, dragging Lupins to death, he would not be able to forgive himself.

_As if I needed another thing to add to list of things I never will..._

Perhaps it was his renewed mindfulness of his own mortality that made him so vehement later. It gave him a certain indifference to pain, which he’d had plenty of on that evening already. The one caused unwittingly by Remus was more bearable than any other was.

Perhaps it was the contrast. It felt much better to suffocate on the shortness of breath, when Lupin was briefly forgetting his self-allotted role of a nurse, than it did in the grip of rubbery snake’s scales.

Perhaps the genuine reason lay in the nature of the Patronus. He had reached to those memories so automatically he hadn’t even realised what was in them, at first. They were ingrained inside him.

Perhaps part of him hoped that Remus would stop him, as the ultimate test. He did; and not for lack of desire, but out of the pure worry glistening in his caramel eyes, too glowing in the faint moonlight to be fully human. _And damn dazzling in that._

All the uncertainties and Remus’ steadying grasp, peace-radiating presence, undeserved concern. Severus had never been gifted at turning down things he believed himself undeserving of. Rather, he would clutch at them with the force of dragon’s jaws. Usually, they would later end up torn out of his hands by fate either way.

Now, as if he hadn’t been racked enough for the day, he let himself be tortured by Remus’ closeness he couldn’t do much with.

Lupin’s touch was burning him in both the metaphorical and literal manner. Yet, it was a warming type of flame and one Severus would happily turn to ashes by. The illusion it gave was enticing. Remus’ bleary smile in the darkness, his warm fingertips lingering on the corner on Severus’ lips, his voice relaying some story concerning his and Teddy’s day... Impossibly, all that was refusing to disappear when he pinched himself. By the time he finished eating the abomination from Honeydukes, he had almost forgotten about having wanted a little more than that, before. Now, he wasn’t even sure he still did.

 _Perhaps this is the actual ‘more’_ – flitted shyly through his head.

Then, having promised he would be back in a moment, Remus went to his room. Allegedly, he headed there to take his pillows, but it took him longer Severus would imagine that to necessitate. Whatever he was doing there, Severus had already started to battle drowsiness by the time he came back.

“Sorry that took so long—“ Remus said, realising he was still awake.

Then, Remus ringed the bed and slid under the covers on _his_ part of it, which wasn’t to remain cold and empty for any longer. He hadn’t bothered bringing the second duvet. Thus, his human(or not so much, _but who cares either way_ )-heater characteristic was more discernible than ever before. He snuggled down next to Severus, pressing most of the length of his body to his. Severus leaned back, nestling up to him even further and Remus burrowed his scratchy chin in his still rather damp hair, warming his neck.

As if that wasn’t enough contact for him, Remus then draped his arm over him, precariously asking whether that was okay in a mellow murmur. Severus wondered how was he supposed to answer him when mute and basically immobilised. However, apparently the slight hitch in his breath and not trying to edge away were enough of an answer.

“Goodnight, Severus.” Remus whispered, for the second time that night, placing what must have been a soft kiss on the cold skin of his nape.

All Severus was capable of uttering in response was a content sigh. He fell asleep dearly hoping he wouldn’t wake up to realise it had all been a night-vision caused by the fever spreading from his unattended wounds.

The way Remus’ hand fit in the hollow of his waist did just as much to dull Severus’ pain, or perhaps more, than all his ministrations from before.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day after Severus’ accident ( _or the series of those_ ), they both woke up at about the same time.

It was a coincidental compromise between Severus’ usual earliness and Remus’ fondness of late mornings. Remus’ waking up was most likely caused by something icy grazing the scar above his cheekbone, then his eyelids. Severus’ – probably by exhaustion. He still wasn’t entirely willing to acknowledge it, but it had allowed him to sleep through the alarm on his wand.

Remus stretched as much as his current position allowed it. Severus, meanwhile, announced that he was no longer mute with a “Morning,” which fluently turned into a yawn. Having untangled from each other, they dragged themselves out of the bed.

In the kitchen, they were pleasantly unsurprised to find Frankie. She had taken upon herself to take care of Teddy’s breakfast when Severus couldn’t. She also made a point of informing them she had had to wake up in the night to him. However, she presented that more as a ‘way things should always be’ than a reproach.

They sat down to breakfast together. The only atypical thing was that Severus wasn’t yet dressed post-walk with Teddy. Sunbeams were laying upon the countertops, polishing them with an already spring-like gleam. Lifting a crystal glass, Severus created a kaleidoscopic pattern across the table. It danced on the dark wood reflecting the sun, while Teddy chuckled brightly in Remus’ lap.

As often, they interwove eating with talking. Remus had reminded him to take the potion already, but Severus’ voice still sounded damaged. Despite that, he used all he had of it to familiarise Remus with what happened the day before. Every now and then, he had to take a break and wash down the hoarseness with coffee.

They both figured it would be best for Severus to wait the situation out and see whether any further consequences would come along. Now it was all up to ‘the Dark Lord’ either way.

As Severus was informed sometime midst all the torturing, the next general summoning was looming. A lot depended on how it would go; counting in Severus’ recent coup, even more than before. Thus, the little idyll they’d just woken up in seemed even more surreal. However, Remus had already decided to latch onto it for as long as it was possible for him.

Besides, Severus’ plans of Remus’ and Teddy’s evacuation were still growing in numbers. Most of them Severus devised with his help and all were meticulous enough to lessen Remus’ fear. None, however, included Severus himself. Remus had therefore designed some additions to them on his own (though, copying Severus’ habits, he wasn’t going to reveal that ‘until necessary’).

Remus wasn’t exactly proud of Severus for getting himself tangled into yesterday’s occurrences. Uncontrolled anger wasn’t something he could stand behind, even if he understood it. Nevertheless, Severus had saved some kid’s life, then got rightfully pissed off about having to do that at all. _And what do_ _bloody Death Eaters require from one of themselves? Some kind of an etiquette?_ Besides, according to Severus, he didn’t even hurt the one responsible properly. The young man, guilty of releasing the Dementors on accident, was the son of none other than Dolores Umbridge. His position in the Ministry showed he was a spitting, though less diligent, image of his mother. Therefore, Remus once again stunned Severus with his lack of compassion.

Soon, Severus had to leave. His yesterday’s and today’s duties combined were waiting for him in the office. Thus, he had to jump right back into the busyness despite the start of the weekend. Although he didn’t exactly change anything in the way he reported off, there was something about the half-smile he’d sent in his and Teddy’s direction that Remus was quite positive hadn’t been there before.

\---

Two days after Severus’ wounds had sealed, Remus woke up in the middle of the night. He had been dreaming of the calm beach, where this time he was sitting on the sand and watching the waves reaching up to his ankles. Now his foot was being grazed with something cold and when he opened his eyes he found Severus’ boring into them.

Severus wasn’t blushing this time, just staring at him, silent. As consciousness slowly dawned on him, Remus realised that one of Severus’ hands was resting on his hip, while the other lay on his inner thigh, barely below the hem of his nightshirt.

The air was heavy with an unasked question. Yet, Remus’ slightly reproachful one outweighed it easily, erupting into it in a shockingly rambunctious whisper. “Are you testing how far you can go without waking me up, Severus?”

Now Severus did turn scarlet (Remus imagined, since all he could see was a shadow engulfing his pale features). Still, without missing a beat, he answered earnestly, “I **meant** to wake you up.”

_Gods, you suck at sweet-talking._

Atoned to the indecorousness and kind of enjoying his fluster, Remus stated, “I shall damn hope so.”

“I would never—” Severus assured gravely, his endearing shyness slowly dissipating.

Remus surveyed his face in the darkness and quickly came to the conclusion that some light could prove useful; no matter whether it was going to be talking that they would engage in, or not quite just that.

“I know, I know—” Remus assuaged, pulling out his wand from underneath the pillow. “For the record – I want this—“ he added, not entirely sure what ‘this’ was yet. However, the first part was certainly true. He hadn’t allowed anything to happen sooner for the sake of Severus’ health, but he did want **something**. Something physical in that, more so that he had already gotten, at least.

The hand between his thighs moved up now, rough against his skin and rumpling the cloth of his nightshirt. Blue flames shot out of Remus’ wand and curled themselves into an orb. They flew to hover above the bed, close to the keystone of the canopy, casting eerie shadows on them both.

Severus watched that display with an appreciative look on his face, as Remus could tell now that the darkness dissipated a bit.

He put his hand on Remus’ shoulder and pushed him lightly onto his back; then kissed him, cautiously, lips barely brushing against his. Severus leaned away, for a moment not touching him at all, and shifted in his position so that their legs intertwined.

Remus looked at him, suspended above him. Light fell on Severus from behind, harshly accentuating his cheekbones and nose, but in a good way, _Merlin, in a good way._ He was quite still for a moment, until Remus pulled him closer again. Although a wave of his hair covered his expression, Remus could swear he saw him wince. Only he didn’t have much time to ponder over it, because Severus started kissing his neck. Remus’ hands travelled to his back, tracing the protruding shoulder blades and _scars? are those the ones from Friday?_ under the thin cotton of his nightshirt. 

The bed, whose canopy Remus was now facing, as a four-poster so identical to the ones in the dormitories, made it feel a whole lot like they were schoolboys. But they weren’t young – a fact only too painfully highlighted by the stinging in Remus’ spine when he craned his neck back, to give Severus better access.

They were alone, too – with no need for even a silencing spell around them. Teddy was sleeping behind a one-way soundproof ward that Remus had set himself, after all.

The colours were different to the ones from Remus’ memories as well – green bathed in the blue he had chosen. Not red in a golden gleam.

Most importantly – the man whose lips were grazing his collarbone, black hair falling in his face and brushing against Remus’ skin, wasn’t Sirius. It was Severus. The exact same one they jeered at what felt like hundreds of years ago, but was less than three decades. ‘Snivellus’, with the aquiline nose, which, when Severus wrestled the collar of Remus’ nightshirt, _his nightshirt, to be precise,_ Remus propped himself up to peck. That made him smile for a second ( _really smile_ , not smirk, for once).

He was neither Sirius nor Dora and, though it wasn’t fair to compare them, Remus’ mind wasn’t letting him not to.

For one, unlike either of them, he was afraid of him, even still.

Severus sucked another bruise into his skin, lower now, rucking the hem of the collar away as he did so, but he smelled of fear. Of a mix of cloves, sassafras and eucalyptus leaves, of arousal and of fear. Even if faint, the scent was present there.

He was also slower and more deliberate. Porcelain–, or perhaps crystal-vial–, –level careful when his freezing fingers dived underneath the fabric, drawing lines around the gashes on Remus’ chest. The feverishness from a few days ago clearly passed along with the fever itself.

Remus wasn’t entirely sure whether he felt more like an object of worship or a potioneering preparation. Still, he wasn’t fully okay with it, with how Severus had taken the lead and he was almost just laying there, yet again at his mercy.

The next time Severus lifted his head from Remus’ skin, it was with the clear intention of getting him out of the robe completely. Yet, he didn’t tear it off. He didn’t even crease it too much while doing that, as if he’d decided it had been rumpled up enough already. Honestly, when it was off, Remus was half-expecting him to fold it. Thus, slowly getting impatient, he snatched it out of his hands and disposed of it himself, throwing it one hell knew where exactly.

Severus saw him now – the whole seamed landscape of his chest, stomach and thighs in its full lack-of glory. Remus couldn’t read a thing from his, currently once again sculpture-calm face. Maybe it was better that he couldn’t. He wasn’t as sure about whether the light was a wise addition, anymore. Before Severus could do anything else, Remus reached to his neck and to his robe. He wanted it off, off like his was – to see him and to touch him, _mostly the latter_.

His fingers curled around the highest button, slightly bigger than the ones in the robe he had worn. His other hand had slid down Severus’ back, landing around the small of it.

“No—” Severus said suddenly, very firmly, as he pushed Remus’ hand off the buttons. “Don’t.”

 _–touch me. –_ Remus completed in his mind, seeing his lip curl in the signature display of revulsion.

He froze as though he’d been struck.

_He finally thought better of it, hasn’t he?_

After a seconds pause, Remus’ hand fell limply onto the sheets, slipping against his own barred skin. As the other one followed its wake, Severus realised his wish had been fulfilled. Leaning away, he sat back on his feet, now tucked beneath him. Then, he straightened to look at Lupin with a furrowed brow. He was positioned between his legs, making Remus feel even more vulnerable, _a wolf lured into a trap_.

Now the thorniest part of things had come – the one of explanations – Remus assumed, though personally he wasn’t even sure Severus owed him one. It was rather obvious what the problem was. He had been naive to have hoped even for a second that this wouldn’t happen.

_God, all of this was such a foolery. It had worked so well as a friendship and now..._

The distrustful part of Remus – the one which had been hissing vicious whispers in his ear, cultivating his deeply buried doubts that this was a tad too good to be true, and waiting for the line to be drawn – just exclaimed in vindication. So this was the breaking point. The second Severus was entirely in his senses and Remus had an ounce of control, Severus’ fear won over the attraction itself.

_Thanks Circe I didn’t let him make that mistake earlier, because I’m not sure I’d forgive myself if he would’ve done and regretted it…_

The part of Remus that was now celebrating having been right was also the one, which wanted him to keep his pain quiet. In that, he decided to defy it.

If Severus would be angry at what he was about to say, and he was almost guaranteed to be, because he’d treat that like an accusation, when it was just a matter-of-fact, then Remus had just lost a source of... _well, of comfort._ However, he neither needed nor wanted to feel worse with himself being a werewolf and in such a context. He would rather retreat into what had been before, provided that was still attainable.

“This was foolish – foolish of me, I mean... I knew you’d be disgusted at some point.” Remus said, with a defeated sigh, and belatedly aware that he shouldn’t have let himself sound so hurt.

Severus tilted his head and looked at him appraisingly, not mad yet, though clearly deciding whether he should be. Then, he pursed his brows and his nostrils widened, and Remus was quite sure he’d snarl at him. Instead, Severus leaned down to him again, very swiftly this time, and clashed lips into his.

In that moment Remus hadn’t expected that any more than he’d expect Severus to dress in colourful clothes. Taken aback, he opened his mouth instinctively only on Severus’ tongue tracing the outline of his bottom lip. His hand reached to Severus’ nape almost of its own accord, tousling his hair.

He either touched the scar on his neck or the one above it, because Severus grunted into his lips. He didn’t stop, however. One of his cold hands was now circling Remus’ nipple, the other one – the tender skin around the bruises he’d just sucked into his neck moments ago.

Remus melted against him. Severus was diligent in the kiss, but not so delicate this time. Tilting his head slightly, Severus nipped at Remus’ lip, which he in turn assumed to be an invitation to kiss him back.

Immediately, Remus doubted his own conjectures from before. _Whatever came into my mind?! How exactly would sex differ from kissing me or, say, giving me love bites, in terms of distaste? Wouldn’t the bed have—?_ The feeling of his tongue inside Severus’ mouth, and the soft, barely perceptible gasp that escaped Severus disturbed his realisation.

He was now painfully aware of the hardness pressing against his abdomen. Just as much as of how it equalled the one of his own, touching Severus’ thigh through his robe.

Severus’ hair was in Remus’ face now too. It hit his nostrils with the lemony and spicy scents woven into it, as he licked his earlobe. Meanwhile, Severus’ hand slid down to Remus’ briefs. First, he stroked him through them, then – pulled at their band. Remus lifted himself to let him take them off. Something too close to a growl escaped him into Severus’ mouth as the man curled his fingers around the length of his member. Where and when he’d gotten lube on them, Remus didn’t know. He only half-mindedly registered the sound of a case tapping against the wooden surface of a nightstand when Severus leaned to it later. Coated with lube, his fingers were no colder against Remus’ skin than without it. Remus’ hips lurched.

In a moment, Severus’ lips released his for good, leaving Remus gasping. He could hear Severus’ breath resonating in his ears, as erratic as his was. His lips travelled through Remus’ scars, through his chest, until they landed on the huge gash tearing through his abdomen. Before going further down his body, Severus traced it with his tongue. Remus had to restrain himself from twisting the wisps under his palm, immersed in his hair, when Severus took his cock into his mouth.

Severus managed to look at him, during – fathomless onyxes of his eyes drawing Remus in like a chasm. But then Remus’ hips bucked once again and he threw his head back, not able to face Severus’ gaze anymore if he was to last.

Maybe it was wise of Severus to have kept his robe on, because Remus was now digging his nails into his arm. He was more controlled only with his other hand, still rumpling Severus’ hair, slick against his skin, without wringing it.

Remus felt it, felt all of it, in a noisy orchestra of sensations that was almost overwhelming after the silence of the last months.

He had no idea what he shouted out into the darkness when he came; though he was sure as hell, it was loud.

Having let him ride out the last wave of his orgasm and apparently completely ignoring his own needs (though Remus saw the way his nightshirt creased when he moved), Severus hoisted himself up again. “Do I seem disgusted, Remus?” he asked breathily.

Before he could answer – in the only possible manner, which, at this point in time, would be a gasped-out, “Fuck, no”, Severus continued. He was staring at Remus with eyes narrowed, but a smug smile was dancing around on his lips. “I meant – then – do not take my shirt off, you complete idiot, not that I mind when it is you acting. I’d frankly rather it was you leading things than me.”

 _Does ‘idiot’ classify as a pet name in his book?_ It certainly did **sound** like it, this time – he said it softly, in the same tone he had used for Remus’ name.

“Would you, now?” Remus marvelled.

Severus was a control-freak through and through. That was yet another reason why Remus wasn’t surprised to hear him protest before. However, he also was talented at giving a whole other impression than who he really was, if one wasn’t really attentive. Meanwhile Remus, in this particular matter was, as Dora used to say, “blinded by being sorry for himself”.

The movement of the black brows was suggestive enough to serve as an answer.

It took a lot of Remus’ self-possession not to go through with the implication of that instantly. He had to reign over his lust. He needed to have his doubts cleared first; the ones which survived the ‘presentation’ from just now, at least. He wanted to hear him out before plunging into desire blindly again, only to then blame himself for doing so.

Their hands found each other now, while Remus prepared to voice his qualms. They were bound to sound silly after what had just happened. At the same time he knew that, for all the jibes, Severus would treat them seriously; he had learnt that much. Severus wouldn’t fob off anything he said that was tinted with anxiety or insecurity. Deride – yes, (though that he did with everything, starting with himself), but not **ignore** it **.**

Therefore, he chanced, “Severus… You have to understand that I’m at a loss with you – you are being... – tender, yes, that’s the word – but then you wince, for example and—“

Severus made a movement that caused Remus to expect the black shape of a wand to swirl between his fingers. His left arm twitched. Next, leaving Remus’ empty, his right hand jumped to it, to meddle at the hem. However, he only barred it, cuffing the tight, though too long sleeve in one swift motion. The wand didn’t stumble out, so it mustn’t have been in its sheath. Remus noticed that, wondering briefly whether it had any meaning.

“This – this is why I wince.” Severus put his palm on Remus’ bare torso. He bent his arm so that Remus could see Voldemort’s brand on it – inactive, standing out in grey against the paleness. His fingers grazed the currently oversensitive skin of Remus’ chest, sending shivers down his spine. Severus was supporting himself solely with his right arm. Its muscles strained themselves underneath the fabric of his robe, their tense outlines visible underneath the grey fabric.

The very second his skin touched Remus’, the Dark Mark glistened in jet black and the snake writhed, snapping its jaws.

Severus lifted his hand and put it on the duvet. Then, he dragged it to cover Remus’ thigh, thinly. His touch was still very palpable through it, rather like through clothes. At first, the tattoo stilled and the ink drained from it. Soon, it coloured again and the snake resumed squirming. Distracted by his arms, Remus hadn’t been looking at Severus’ face. Now that he did, he saw it slightly screwed up with pain he wasn’t disguising.

 _Well... this is news to me_... – he commented to himself. Foggily, he recalled that ‘manners curse’ from Severus’ book. The Mark must have been working on a similar basis. The aim was clear – not to let the followers get attached to anyone ‘unworthy’. However, with Voldemort’s lack of regard for the existence of feelings, such horrible acknowledgement of them was surprising. If Remus had been right with his guess about Lily, Severus could even have been the reason why such an idea occurred to the Dark Lord at all. Disconcerted, Remus dismissed those stray thoughts on the matter.

Severus could probably close-to hear the puzzle pieces falling into place in Remus’ mind upon watching his display. Yet, it didn’t dissipate Remus’ qualms – it only brought new ones.

“—God... it doesn’t—” he could hardly bring himself to form that sentence. “—it doesn’t inform **him** in any way, does it?”

“No. We would have been dead already, because it does distinguish between a werewolf and half-a-one.” Severus informed him calmly, letting himself fall onto the sheets next to Remus.

Remus twisted his head to see him, shadows playing beneath his cheeks and streams of black framing his grave countenance. All playfulness had been wiped away by the mention of ‘his Lord’. In an attempt to neutralise that buzzkill, Remus reached out to him and began rubbing his arm slightly while they talked.

“Why do you—“ he began asking, then bit the question down his own tongue. _Why do you put up with it? Would I really? The fluster that’ll give him..._ On the other hand, blushes fit him. Besides, he definitely could use a good distraction after Remus had accidentally made him focus on Voldemort. “Why do you put up with it?” Remus therefore said, well aware he was raising himself on the matter of frown-worthy questions.

Severus’ thoughts followed the predicted track. He reddened, but simultaneously narrowed his eyes, putting on that patronising face of his. Remus quite liked looking at it. “I’ll be merciful and let you think that through again.”

 _You will not admit to anything that can be used against you, will you?_ – Remus wondered, now smiling to himself. However, the enigma wasn’t truly solved yet. Thankfully, Severus obliged without further prompting.

“Either way, that’s not why I refrain from barring my chest.” Severus amended formally, gaze languorously swimming between Remus and the canopy above them.

“What is it, then?” Remus continued asking, running his fingers through Severus’ hair, partly hidden beneath his own arm. “I thought the wounds—“

“The wounds are fine—” Severus cut in. His voice was losing the raspy haze it had acquired before and turning just gruff, though still soft in volume.

“If it’s on the matter of my wolfishness, I’d really rather you’d just tell me—“ Remus near-pleaded, still unwilling to believe that it could **not** be about that.

Severus sighed heavily and studied him for a moment, as if wagering some kind of a decision. Then, he explained, directing his words at the lock of his hair Remus was scotching between his fingers, “Certain things never boded well for me with some people when it was off.” With a minuscule twitch of his shoulder, like a repressed shrug, he added, “Just that.”

He glanced at Remus, who wasn’t yet ready to give him any reaction, but for mute gaping.

_Just that._

_Just fucking that._

As usual with Severus, half the confession remained unspoken and Remus filled it in with the worst things he could imagine. 

Possibly misinterpreting his silence as lack of understanding, Severus went on, “So the connotation is not always a pleasant one.”

“The connotation is not always a pleasant one—” Remus repeated hollowly. He could only suspect how terribly **un** pleasant it was, if Severus was resorting to purism.

Severus gave him that odd, frown-like, but a lot less obstreperous look, which he’d seen a few times lately. Remus continued, squeezing his shoulder softly, “—I thought I’ve heard enough euphemisms in my life already… From calling the wolf my ‘furry little problem’ through You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and all the bullshit currently in the Prophet, though I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to add to that. The connotation is really fucked up, I assume?”

“Indeed—” Severus agreed heavily. He then fell silent for a moment, absently grazing Remus’ nipple with the fingers of his left hand. “And it has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with your werewolfishness.” He lifted Remus’ chin towards himself and immobilised it as they locked eyes; Severus’ almost-glaring at him. His voice was harsh, contradicting the softness of his touch. “So do not play that game with me.”

Remus stared at his thin lips letting out the mingled threat and consolation in quiet barks. He was counting on them to help him fight off his incredulousness with words, even though they haven’t exactly failed to do so in another manner earlier. They did not let him down this time either.

“—I am as aware as you are that this is foolish in all possible ways. But I want you. A werewolf and an idiot, I don’t care—” Severus declared, pitch-black eyes piercing Remus’ unblinkingly.

“Oh now don’t be so harsh on yourself, Severus. You’re not necessarily an idiot—“ Remus replied with a grin.

“Screw you, Lupin. I was attempting to be heartfelt.” Severus huffed, letting go of his chin. As Remus noted with gladness, his graveness had dispelled.

“Well… you may, actually. And it didn’t miss me, that.” Remus propped himself up and quickly shifted to be over Severus. “I want you too, by the way. A lot.” The last part he whispered into his skin, a second before placing another kiss on _that Roman nose of his_ , then lifting his lips from it and capturing Severus’ between them.

When he released them again, Severus cut in with impressive composure, “Getting back to the matter of the shirt – I’ll ask you not to take it off. I do not mind you touching it, however. But can we not talk about the why, now?” His features had tensed slightly and at the end, his voice carried a hint of apprehensive uncertainty. It had fought to surface, but Remus heard it clearly, boiling underneath the silk of his tone.

“Of course we can. I’d like to know, if you can bring yourself to tell me one day, but we can never talk about it, if you don’t want to.” Remus hastened to assure him. Only once he saw the tautness huddling in the corner of Severus’ mouth leave it, did he return to kissing him.

He let himself fall gently onto Severus, so that he partly lied on him. The cotton of Severus’ nightshirt was cold in some places as it crimpled against Remus’ equally sweaty chest and under his eager hands. Not having much area to caress him, even now that Severus had his sleeves cuffed – one from before, one in an impatient gesture from Remus wanting as much skin-to-skin contact as he could possibly get, he reached down to his legs.

His nightshirt had already rolled up quite considerably. Unlike Remus, he didn’t have anything underneath it. Remus ran his hands over his legs, up to his hips. He swept through the smoothness of his skin, stopping only on a harsh line of a seam – one with palpably rough edges and probably much older than a few days. Apparently, they both had battle scars. Before touching his inner thigh, unable to muffle his intrusive doubts, Remus sent a controlling glance upwards.

Severus had sunk into the pillow, amazingly pale in the mix of black and blue. His face was surrounded by the hair, forming a halo, which glistened in the gleam of the orb. Although his mien wasn’t any more expressive than it always was, its sight assured Remus. He definitely hadn’t changed his mind so far.

If Remus needed more proof of that, Severus’ hands, up until now drawing intricate lines between the scars and hairs on Remus’ chest, now slid down his waist. He pulled him up and onto himself, so that their cocks were pressed together.

His hands gliding down Severus’ hips, Remus grabbed the both of them. Severus was already hard and he only needed a few strokes before he quietly warned him, making Remus unlatch from his lips for a moment. “I’m close—“

Remus would have known either way, because, for a second before orgasm took him, Severus’ whole body stilled in his embrace. He gave another breathy exhale that turned into a moan he’d failed to quell. It vibrated against the tendrils on Remus’ chin, getting him, in turn, considerably worked up. Then, the sticky warmness of his sperm spilled over Remus’ hand and in a moment he too was coming, breath quickened and unsteady against Severus’ neck.

When they once again both sagged against the sheets, having spelled themselves clean, he suggested more, but Severus only rolled his eyes tiredly. “What are you, a horny teenager?”

“A werewolf—“ Remus dared to say. Partly, he did it out of the compulsive need to have him aware of that at all times, but he was quite convinced it did have a connection to his libido.

“Really? Not sure I got that. Could you repeat yourself, perhaps?” Severus cocked a brow truculently.

Remus snogged him until all signs of the mischievous leer were extinguished. He fell asleep pleasantly exhausted, with his arm wrapped around Severus’ shoulders and with his bony hand resting between the scars on his stomach.

\---

Soon after Severus’ encounter with Dementors, the preannounced general Summoning took place.

Last time Remus was this terrified for someone, it probably was during the Battle of Hogwarts. At least both Severus and Draco were expecting the call and thus had prepared as well as they possibly could have. Still, Severus departed for it completely convinced that Draco would fail to guard his mind and bring the Lord’s wrath upon them. Oddly, in the end Remus had more faith in the young Malfoy than he did. Maybe it was even born out of his suspiciousness towards him. After all, Remus was certain of one thing about Draco – that he was good at lying.

Thankfully, Severus turned out to be mistaken.

They both returned safe and sound. Without, as Severus later phrased it, “as much as a shadow of infidelity falling onto our pristine Death Eater reputations.”

The news they brought with them, however, wasn’t encouraging. The Dark Lord was planning to attack the European Ministries in the summer. He had his, some volunteering, some imperioed, allies on the continent to help him carry out those plans. Meanwhile, “the mud were being taken care of”. That involved the Prime Minister of Britain being held under a curse and gradually introducing changes of the muggle law, which would easily let the wizards take over.

First thing after the Summoning, they sent a crow. His main instruction was to be swift in delivery. They were both hoping the rebels would do something that neither of them could.

Then, confronted with the Dark Lord’s schemes, they started working on their own. They even managed to agree that Draco would eventually need to be versed in them. The young Malfoy, from what he was reporting to Severus, was succeeding both at gaining the trust of his little group and at actually teaching them what he knew. He was proving himself, both there and between enemy lines.

For now, all three of them had a month (or more) to relish the safety from Voldemort’s peeking into either of his two treacherous Eaters’ heads. Unfortunately, the reality was harsher than that.

The days following the Summoning were particularly hard on Severus.

Yaxley, who he had an understandably tense relationship with ever since being tortured by him, had asked his help in identifying the families of several mudbloods. The mudbloods in question, all former Hogwarts’ students, had fled, but their families proved easily traceable. Treating the task seriously, Severus even took out some of the school photos stored in the library for comparisons. In the end, he deemed three of them as ‘highly resembling’ his former students.

Both he and Remus were aware that his written word was a sentence for those people. Yet, Severus did not **seem** brought down by this. Only if one surveyed his face carefully as he put his signature on the letter confirming the names, could a twitch of his mouth be observed. It wasn’t even a downward one. It could just as well have been a complacent smirk. Remus knew it wasn’t.

He didn’t have to hear it to know Severus needed a hug. However, as usual, he wasn’t entirely sure whether he would want one, so he asked.

Severus attempted to palm him off with a, “What for?” Luckily, “Because I want to,” turned out a counterargument strong enough for him to concede. Not even having sat down to share the news, he just put his cup down when Remus stood up from his chair.

Despite the notice, Severus froze for a moment, as he often did when hugged. Then, he wrapped his arms back around Remus. His muscles were taut, always ready for an escape. Remus would have offered to massage them, but he didn’t want to disrespect Severus’ wishes considering baring his upper body, so he settled for rubbing them through his robe. All the while, his chin rested in the crook of Severus’ neck. Very slowly, the tenseness went away, before Severus kissed the side of Remus’ neck, up to his ear.

There wasn’t anything to say. Severus hated himself for what he was doing, but there was no other way. He was as vague as the question permitted. “They resemble”, never – “they certainly are.” The hope there were any other Thomases or Frosts, who those had been mistaken for, was less than faint. Yet, Severus couldn’t lie more openly. If detected, that would arouse suspicion and the danger was high enough already.

Nothing could be done. As often, lately, they could only wait for the situation to unfold and then count the loses.

The forced waiting made it even easier for Remus to get lost in the passing of time. He had never been good at tracing it in his lockdown to begin with. For once, however, it was not another of Teddy’s achievements that reminded him of the date.

One evening, after returning from his office, Severus didn’t come up to the bedroom to greet him. Remus heard him enter, but didn’t get up either. He wanted to finish the chapter of the novel he was reading first. It was one of the thinner ones, but managed to be just as disheartening as the others. He should have probably expected that, reaching for something called “Heart of Darkness”.

About fifteen minutes later, Remus put the book away and went to the kitchen. As he opened the door, the scents of vanilla and butter reached him, giving some hints to why Severus hadn’t had the time to talk to him yet.

“You’re cooking?” Remus asked upon entering.

Severus turned to him with his wand in one hand and a bowl in the other, brow raised condescendingly.

“What are you cooking?” Remus tried again. “And what’s gotten into you that you are?”

“Are you fine with breakfast food at 9 pm?” Severus responded with a question of his own, turning back around to continue his task.

“I don’t think I’m ever not-fine with it, so yes. So, what is it?” Remus approached the cabinet Severus was standing by and peered over his shoulder onto the countertop.

“Pancakes. And the reason is that you are a year closer to death, of course—” Severus replied without lifting his gaze.

 _Oh right – my birthday. He really does have a memory for things!_ Remus realised that he himself had completely forgotten about it. He’d never paid too much attention to it, but now it seemed even more meagre and insignificant. Yet, it definitely felt nice that Severus thought otherwise.

“Well that’s hopeful of you, isn’t it?” Remus wondered ironically, sneaking his hand in underneath Severus’ to steal a piece of fruit. “Considering our chances, I’d say celebrating every day is a much better fit.”

“That I believe, has already been invented, called ‘hedonism’ and, to the chagrin of everyone who possess reason, not forgotten since.” Severus’ voice dripped with sarcasm like the blade of his knife did with bright red juice. He was currently cutting strawberries into pieces. Instead of just setting the knife to do that, he guided it with his hand as if this was a potion, necessitating the careful measuring of ingredients, and not simply a meal.

Remus, however, wasn’t complaining. He instantly judged he enjoyed watching him work. How Severus was completely immersed even in something so mundane, was only adding to that.

Since from his seat at the table he wouldn’t be able to continue observing Severus, Remus lingered round. There was chocolate slowly turning into glaze in one of the pots. The batter, not yet ready to be poured on the pan on which a piece of butter was melting, was waiting in another. The scents, which wafted over Remus earlier, held a tight reign over the whole area of the kitchen, defeating the herbal one he caught when Severus was passing.

Impervious to, though not unaware of, Severus’ annoyance at him being there, Remus tried to remove himself from his way. Despite his cautiousness, he finally got shoved to the side quite indecorously. What he thought of it must have shown on his face, because Severus then put his hand on where his hip had dug into Remus’ before. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “Sorry” and turned to him, an eggshell he had yet to banish in one hand.

“Why are you still mooning around here, Remus?” Severus then asked. Hopefully facetious, indignation glittered in his narrowed eyes.

“Inspecting and supervising, of course—” Remus replied, smiling. He reached to Severus’ face to brush away a lock, which had escaped from behind his ear. “I have found, for example, that you’re keeping your hair down, which – I’m guessing you have to be told – you shouldn’t be doing in the kitchen.”

He drew his wand and pointed it at Severus’ head. Severus gave a minuscule startle when he did so. Nevertheless, he trusted Lupin enough not to even ask about the origins of the spell when Remus said, “Sustringo.”

 _Well, that’s a charm that hadn’t been used for years... –_ Remus remarked to himself, making a line in the air with his wand. The black hair before him twirled up and tied itself with two wisps of it. He stepped back, admiring his doing. Severus, either to aid him in that or to hide his expression, returned to mixing the batter in the purple pot.

Suddenly, Frankie grew from the ground, pushing Remus away from the counter just as tactlessly as Severus had done before. Her reason was “—setting on the coffee and the tea-pot. And you should be sitting down, sir Remus, not making a crowd in here.” Unlike him, however, she didn’t so much as grace Remus with a glance upwards, not to say an apology.

Severus, not too shockingly, agreed with her on her last point. He showed that with an incline of his head towards her and then a “Listen to the elf, Lupin—” uttered to Remus.

Before sitting down at the table, Remus nudged him gently under his ribs for that re-appearing surname of his. He couldn’t quite eradicate that habit of Severus’ from his speech.

When Severus’ head swivelled in his direction, the glistening tendrils of hair trembled on his head, held up in place by Remus’ creation. However, his reproach for that ‘attack’ was quietened before it could be voiced, because Remus took the chance to kiss him thank you.


	20. The Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The weather is cute with the clouds of depressing and a slight chance of smut (this wasn't intentional, I've already said I don't take responsibility for those idiots, I just describe them).
> 
>  **Content warning:** mildly referenced but serious animal cruelty; also - descriptive smut, with something of a pain play woven into it, I suppose. 

Remus had a habit of making himself tea sometime in the hours Severus returned from the office. Presumably – to Frankie’s absolute dismay, he usually insisted on doing that himself. Now, Lupin was sitting by the table, poring over a book and waiting for the kettle to whistle. Frankie must have been shooed away from the kitchen, because there were toys scattered all over the floor around the kid’s blanket. Clearly, Teddy went to sleep only recently.

Hearing his footsteps over the delicate sound of goblin jazz playing in the kitchen, Remus lifted his eyes from the page. He closed the book with his finger trapped between the pages. Severus caught a glimpse of a brown, worn cover.

“Hi – long day yet again?” Lupin opened.

“Young Malfoy found it fit to barge into my office just before the curfew.”

“Oh—Draco? What did he want this time?” Remus leaned forwards, eyes ignited with interest.

“As you know, his little shell of a project has grown. And so now he needs to fix a curriculum for it for the last few months of revision.”

The boy had remained fairly quiet on the matter of his tutoring club for a while since Severus had helped him with his risky schemes. However, ever since the results of the midterms had arrived, he reignited in his efforts. An excellent excuse, though his real reason likely lay in how smoothly the last summoning went for the both of them. It had made Draco feel self-assured. Meanwhile, his cover-up of an initiative had attracted the curiosity of other students. Once the 7th years received their _horrible_ mock exams’ grades, they realised their dire need of tutoring.

Currently, to Severus’ knowledge, every of the Houses had its own study group. He did have to sign a form allowing the existence of each, but it was Pince who stored them, so he could have lost track. All the groups, except for Draco’s inter-house one, were real.

Depending on their lack of self-preservation instinct, the prefects were pilgrimaging either to Pince or to Snape, ever since February. Severus was agreeing to their propositions, though never without surveillance. The Heads of Houses and the Head Boy and Girl were supposed to keep an eye on all those small organisations forming.

The whole ordeal tied to the study groups, was Severus’ strongest motivation to look for replacements for the vacant teaching positions. In the meanwhile, he even encouraged those grassroots-endeavours. Although he understood he might not live to see another year of his own headmastery, it remained in his and Hogwarts’ best interest. Severus wanted the brats and the school itself to do well in the exams, despite all the chaos around. For his efforts in that he had been called a Headmaster more involved than Dumbledore used to be. That opinion was shared perhaps solely by Phineas’ portrait and Draco, but it was nevertheless reassuring.

Remus was treating Severus’ investment in this matter with a dose of surprise. “I wouldn’t take you for the type to get actually engaged in all that—“ he had said.

Severus agreed with his point wholeheartedly. He had not counted himself as ‘the type’ to be helping Draco either, whether it was with the real thing or the cover for it. Still, hadn’t Remus’ remark been embellished with that awful, admiring, soft-eyed smile of his, he would have treated it as an insult. Yet, since it was, he concluded Lupin was another person who believed he was not as horrible in a leading role as he had supposed himself.

Now, however, Remus did not express the wish to know more about Draco’s schemes. Instead, he asked, “So, when are we inviting him to talk to the two of us? The front is rather infallible for now if he’s up in your office every other day either way, right?”

“Right—” Severus said heavily. He sat down on the chair next to him exactly in the moment when Remus slid a bookmarker into his tome and stood up. Pre-empting its whistle for a second or two, probably thanks to _his damned wolfish ears_ , he got up to the kettle.

“So, what do you say?” Remus prodded from over the counter, putting off the fire on the stove. “And do you want tea? – Is black fine?”

Severus nodded twice. He blessed Remus’ clumsiness for forcing him to focus completely on carrying the teacups to the table, because that gave him a moment to consider his first question.

Truth was he would rather keep young Malfoy far away from everything.

Unfortunately, that seemed impossible. Not only was the little idiot eager to get hurt on his own, but also, the day of his marking was looming. Based on the recent developments, it wasn’t hard to conjecture that Draco did not want to bear the Dark Mark. The case of someone unwillingly taking it was unprecedented. As Severus understood that bond, it would not accept him in those circumstances. The boy, therefore, was “In mortal danger every day, either way.” He reckoned so himself, rhyming as he popped yet another drug-candy into his mouth. He claimed to have “complete control over it now, I swear, sir”, but Severus did not believe a word of his on it.

On top of all that, there was also the issue of even further exposing Remus to grace of a barely emotionally stable, substance-dependent, whimsy teenager. This, too, Severus was rather sharply opposed to.

He tried explaining all that to Lupin.

He did that in the most logical manner. After all, the greater part of his reasons behind not wanting either of them in peril, was that they were useful when on the same side as his ( _and bloody alive_ ).

“I think Draco’s proven the risk of V-the Lord finding out from his head is small. And I don’t think he’d betray willingly either, not at this point. So the risk is small and wouldn’t say it outweighs the spoils. Besides, all of the dangers are already there. The worst that can come from this is they’ll grow a little bit, though it’s not like they’re not humungous already. And I’d definitely trust him more if I could judge for myself, talking to him… So you know—” Remus said in response to his tirade.

In the end, Remus managed to convince him the risk was minuscule and “probably worth it”. Again, hadn’t it been for the _accursed wolf-puppy eyes_ with soft lines of crinkles underneath them, Severus was sure he would not have conceded. Frankly, Remus’ actual counterarguments weren’t strong. One of them invoked Draco’s bravery (even if often a self-serving one). Now that was a trait Draco had no one to have inherited from. Snorting derisively at the very notion, Severus told Lupin that, to which Remus only smiled enigmatically.

On the next occasion possible for him, the boy visited the two of them. With regard for his age _and complete lack of common sense,_ they let him become actively involved in their planning.

Oddly enough, the jaded blond descendant of proud centuries of racists and the werewolf, desperately looking for human contact (but not desperately enough not to be suspicious of his motives), got along well. By the end of their talking on that first day, Severus had to go to the laboratory to see to the Wolfsbane, which he was preparing a bit earlier than the usual that month. He returned to find the two engulfed in conversation.

“—yeah – saw it, but it dissipated.” A scrap of Draco’s voice reached him upon opening the doors. No heads turned in his direction. During Severus’ short absence, the young Malfoy had been offered tea, a cup of which was now steaming between his ringed hands.

“Then it means it’s either the memories that aren’t strong enough – you should probably try others, or even easier – that you lost focus.” Remus spoke in an informative tone. The mellowness of his voice deprived it of authoritativeness, but he still sounded like a teacher.

“Well, I know. In theory.” Draco sighed resignedly, slumping in his chair.

Severus returned to his seat between the two of them, now acknowledged by distracted glances. There was a cup waiting for him as well. In it was liquorice tea, as he could tell by the aroma, lifting the beverage to his lips as soon as he sat down. He refrained from interrupting them.

“If you want to, maybe we could practice sometime—“ Remus said to the boy, who livened up a tad upon hearing that promise. Lupin, in turn, wisely decided to stifle that impromptu hopefulness. “—Though, in all honesty, I might not be the best teacher on that, as of lately – mine shows, but only provided I’m not in a bad mood. Besides, I don’t do corporeals, if it’s a presentation you’d like to see... Severus?”

Severus started at the abrupt question. He’d inferred, of course, that Patronuses were the topic of the discussion. Therefore, he was even less eager to take part in it, especially if what he was being asked to do was showing his own one. “I what?” he barked out, defensively.

“Right, sorry I asked—“ Remus mitigated instantly and with understanding. “—Well then, Draco, how about you ask someone a little less... distressed by fate? Somebody your age, maybe?”

“As if I haven’t done that already—“ Draco said dejectedly. “I’m clearly a resistant student. Maybe there’s just something wrong with me on the matter—“

Severus wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Draco be that open with anyone but Cissa. Still reducing himself to the role of an observer, he surveyed their interaction with growing curiosity.

Remus cut in warmly, “Oh, don’t say that! There’s plenty of witches and wizards who can’t do so much as cast a non-corporeal – and ones far past your age…” He shot a glance at Severus, as if checking whether he wasn’t offending him.

“And yet, some could cast a fully-fledged Patronus years ago—“ Draco argued. All three of them knew perfectly well that he was talking about Potter.

Remus scratched his hand, leaving temporary pink marks to add to the scar already crossing it. He was mostly over the losses of war at this point, as far as that was attainable at all. Yet, every now and then, a triggered memory would send him sulking. Although Severus still considered that a bit too emotional, he would have attempted to offer him some sort of support, but _not with Draco around here._ Besides, he already had a calming tea right in front of him and, indeed, he first dipped his lips in it before spoke.

“Of course—such cases exist as well—“ Remus said a moment later, putting away the teacup, voice perfectly level. “—But that’s not the norm—“

Severus saw the young Malfoy preen. He had no doubt that a proud and resembling of Lucius thought appeared in Draco’s head – that he was far above the mob to whom those norms applied.

Remus, clearly, saw it too. A patronising smile flitted shyly through his face, before he went on, still in the serious and comforting manner. “Therefore, I’m sure someone with **your** abilities will succeed eventually. As most things – it’s mainly the matter of practice. You should try a few things to focus on, until you find a combination that gives the best results – then work on that.” He paused to take another sip of his tea and Draco, who was watching him attentively, mirrored that action. “You could also try casting without concentrating on anything in particular – just instinctively reaching for what in your mind goes with ‘happiness’.”

“And temporarily opening parts of your mind wards, that as well.” Severus finally put in his pennyworth. “Careful with that, but it helps. You then may start reinstating the protections partially after casting, progressing back to the proper defences—” he advised knowledgably, catching a peculiar look from Remus while he did so.

The time for them to talk was running out, since the curfew was approaching. In a moment, Draco excused himself, but not before he had tickled “The Little One”, who had since woken up and been brought in by Frankie.

Severus later found out that, in his outburst of trustfulness, Draco confided in Lupin about experimenting with potion making.

“That’s what he needs a Patronus for—” Remus recounted to him. “He’s trying to make something that works against Dementors, while being less flashy than what’s there already, but easier than Occlumency or Protegos. As he said it – he’s shocked nobody before him thought of it...”

“The Eaters could use that.”

“My thoughts exactly—“ Remus said, raising his cup as if to toast him, “—and Draco’s, apparently, too. He’s doing this officially, as his project for the semester. I suppose it’s because he can’t hide with everything.”

“No, he certainly cannot—” Severus agreed. Still, there was something inherently wrong about having Draco follow his footsteps in simultaneously working for both the sides equally. Especially, considering it involved betraying to the Dark Lord that he was capable of hoarding such pleasant emotions. On the other hand – so was Narcissa – and yet Voldemort had accepted her servitude. Draco’s invention would be beneficial to the Dark Lord’s cause, so perhaps the Malfoys could get another act of grace out of Him. _Both He and Albus see the boy solely for his uses..._ – sped through Severus’ head.

“Thankfully, if it does work, we’ll know – and we’ve already got his permission to share that within the letters.”

“Permission—“ Severus spat with a hint of contempt.

“Well I know what you’ll say—“ Remus patted the back of his hand placatingly. “—But we obviously can’t withhold it either, if he does make it. It would be too huge an advantage for the Eaters. Especially since I’m confident the whole rest of the rebellion isn’t doing any better than the two – or three – of us, in terms of casting Patronuses, lately.”

Severus wanted to interrupt him, reminding him of the obvious – by listing methods of dealing with the soul-sucking creatures other what the Gryffindor favoured. Yet, before he started to do so, Remus had turned to look him straight in the eyes. “We two should probably work on practicing the spell as well. May come in handy for communication when ours are back in Britain, I’m quite sure. Besides, I’d like to see yours, if you don’t mind – before today I didn’t even know you’ve got one.”

 _So that, at least, Albus’ portrait had forgotten to mention in his gossip_ – Severus discerned internally. Outwardly, he was trying his best not to look as angry as he felt with himself. He hadn’t expected Remus to have guessed from his advice alone. “Says the one, who only casts non-corporeals—” he replied, more viciously than he had intended.

Remus’ gaze hardened into a glare before he drew his hand away. “You know very well why I do so!” Then, almost instantly, his eyes melted from firm fudge back to caramel. “I’m sorry, I probably have no idea why you don’t want to see yours. It could’ve been connected to someone who’s not here anymore...” Remus thought out loud. The softness of his tone and the warmth, which returned to cover the skin of Severus’ hand lessened the impact of those words.

_And he hit a jackpot – or would have, if he wasn’t a few weeks – or months, perhaps, late in that._

Reluctantly, Severus had to admit imagining his Patronus in its new form was less hurtful than it had been with the doe. It was only the possible ridicule of showing it that made him purse his lips in annoyance. “You seem to have a fairly good idea—“ he concurred, compromising between wanting to appease Lupin and his own pride. “—Getting back to Draco’s preparing of his own cross, however...”

Remus took the bait of the changed topic. Thus, for the rest of the evening they stuck to discussing other matters, which Severus felt a lot less uneasy with.

\---

Draco could not, obviously, pop in too often – and so in March he did so only once after that first introduction.

They had agreed on briefing him on everything they had been talking through in the meantime, but in a reasonable manner. Severus didn’t even have to insist on the restrictions in that – Remus proposed them himself. For example, they versed him into the existence of the letters, but not the contents of them.

Severus shared Dumbledore’s belief that more than two people aware of a secret usually turned into an open one. Remus barely counted in that, as he wasn’t able to converse with anyone. With Draco, however, the matter differed; just like it did with the Gryffindors stuck somewhere in Spain.

The Gryffindors in question had not been informed about Draco’s betrayal of the Dark Lord either. The boy, as both Remus and Severus saw it, had a larger chance of living through whatever was coming if that remained a Hogwarts’ confidence. Albus’ portrait, on the other hand, suggested on multiple occasions that he could become some sort of a secret weapon. This was one of the causes behind Severus’ decision that they no longer needed Dumbledore’s insight whenever talking plans. They had squeezed all of the deceased headmaster’s knowledge out of the token already and, frankly, he was getting irritating. Remus seemed a little less convinced than Severus was, but he yielded eventually.

Due to the growing importance of his role, Draco acted far too confident with them. In his hubris, just before the Easter Break, when alone with Severus in his office, he burst out with an offer. “Is there anything – any spell or potion – that you would, perhaps, like to test on werewolves? Travers’ taking me ‘hunting’—“ In the most teenager-like manner imaginable, he tilted his head and added air-quotes. “—with him. Outside Britain, though we haven’t agreed which country, yet. One of our allies for sure. That’ll be during Full Moon, I s’ppose, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to, but there may be a chance...”

 _How dare you...—_ Severus ignited at first.

Doubtlessly upon seeing his face twist with anger, Draco hastened to amend. “I mean – as so to know whether anything works differently on them. If you are experimenting with anything new these days, sir. Because I’m guessing you wouldn’t do that on professor—I mean Remus, and it’d be better to know...”

Severus creased his brow, looking at Draco surly and appraisingly. The boy wasn’t above a little cruelty, especially when he saw it as a means to an end. Now more pragmatically, he thought through his proposition. He already had the matter of Wolfsbane rather under control (and either way, this Draco was unlikely to be able to test out without drawing attention to himself). There was nothing else that came to his mind at the moment.

_Poisons, perhaps, but for that I doubt I would have any use._

“No, Draco. Nothing of the sort—” Severus said finally. The boy was still lounging in the chair in front of his desk, but now looked less eager to meet his narrowed, almost-condemningly, eyes. He could need to be assured his suggestion wasn’t entirely wrong. “Should anything occur to you as highly useful, however, I see no reason not to—“ Severus added at the end.

There were plenty of reasons, actually. However, the harm caused to the wolves themselves was not vivid amongst those concerns. Considering the fate of them in Britain, the wolves were going to get harmed nevertheless. If so, it could just as well be with the slight profit of one (were-)wolf, whom Severus would rather not see harmed, even by an allergic reaction caused by a potion.

\---

Whether in the morning or after returning from the office, Severus’ typical state fit in the thin belt between ‘mildly tired’ and ‘completely exhausted’. Therefore, he hardly had it in him to act like a horny adolescent. Meanwhile, Remus’ drive, perhaps truly because of his condition, was higher than average. Due to their conflicting schedules, it was usually up to Severus to decide to wake him up. For the most part of the Moon Cycle this wasn’t the easiest feat. Yet, even after that herculean effort sometimes they simply ended up kissing and embracing (“cuddling”, Remus called it). Whenever it was so, it was typically caused by Severus’ tiredness.

Considering how eager Remus was most of the time, especially as the plenilune was nearing, it was a paradox how hard was it for him to forget himself.

He had a whole set of misgivings to support him in that. Those ones were much more ridiculous that any he could have expressed on the matter of their scheming. The root of his self-restraint lay in his fear of being seen as a (were-)wolf.

Severus had no trouble differentiating between the human werewolf and the wolf he was making potions to help Remus control. At least not in the last two months or so. It peeved him that despite him making that obvious, Lupin still managed to overlook it. That was the only area in which Lupin ever showed deep distrust towards him. Another reason for his annoyance was that in certain scenarios this was simply inconvenient.

Whenever a low and throaty, _growl-like,_ groan issued from Remus’ lips, he momentarily silenced himself, sometimes resolving to biting his own fist. Similarly, he tried to quell every other noise he made, which could be interpreted as _wolfish, probably._ Severus was starting to suspect the man had not heard a wolf in his life. To him they were just _Remus’_ and he wanted them audible.

However, since Remus never tried to fight him on his one and only qualm – _or quirk, as some view it_ , by means of intrusive questions (or anything else), Severus requited with a similar consideration for his foibles.

On top of that, he was acutely aware of his own fault in making Remus so oversensitive about that aspect. Lupin himself admitted to that one morning, lying in bed.

Remus certainly preferred being woken up at night, if he had the choice. However, he didn’t seem mad then, face bathed in a post-orgasm flush, turned peachy by the sunlight. Suddenly, his jaw tensed (perceptibly, at least if one was staring at his lips). He squinted and stayed motionless for a while, calculating.

When he finally spoke, he sounded nothing short of terrified. “I think I may have a cut in my mouth...”

Severus did not let that disquiet transfer onto himself. Both of them could be bleeding right now and still the risk of Remus infecting him would be negligible. If his worries were purely logical, he would have realised that too. However, they very clearly were not, at the moment. Severus remembered the night Lupin was helping him out with his wounds and the almost-secretly muttered Episkey the werewolf had cast upon himself before that. Back then, his concerns were somewhat justified. Later, however, in bed and when Severus’ wounds had long sealed – not so much anymore. Soon, he castigated Remus on doing that, offering to use precautions of his own. Yet, even after that, Lupin kept panicking occasionally.

Now Severus gauged from his tone it was one of those occasions. _Instead of bloody going back to sleep he is going to spiral..._

With faint hope of evading that, he turned to his other side, counting on Remus to nestle up to him. He would much rather evacuate – placating had never been his forte. However, his inept (as he was perfectly mindful) comforting, seemed to actually work on Remus. He was a rare case in that, next to Cissa. Still, the mere fact it was necessary miffed Severus a little. The time he could spend lingering in bed next to him in the morning was limited. Thus, he had no intention of spending it on hearing, _for the 100 th time,_ that Remus didn’t want to unwittingly hurt him. Unless, of course, the situation would call for it. Which it did.

Remus tugged at the duvet, stretching it even more now that Severus had moved. Then, he asked, voice crackling with anxiousness, “Are you absolutely sure you’re sufficiently protected against that?”

Before rolling back to his previous position, facing him, Severus replied with what he meant as an annoyed grunt. _Say that little accusation to my eyes, you damned pretty idiot._ “Of course I am—” he assured Remus aloud. “You are speaking to a potion-maker. And if you think I enjoy the taste of powdered silver with my coffee, then you are rather mistaken.”

“I know... I didn’t mean this like that—“ Remus said. His tone was free of any signs of pleasant drowsiness – a hurried note of trepidation had replaced them. “—Just—we can’t use anything muggle either and—just… I’m just—accidentally partially turning you... it would be a death sentence—“

“Which I already have on me, may I remind you.” Severus did not let himself outwardly tremble at the notion of that ever happening. He reached out to graze the gash curling around Remus’ right forearm somewhere at the height of the skull on Severus’ left. Then, noticing that Remus had started to nervously play with his hair (instead of his own), he brushed some more of it to the side.

“—Yes, but I’m—“ Remus began, casting round wildly for an argument that would manage to equal Severus’ logical one. His search, predictably, gave no results. Thus, he jumped back to another, which he seemed to consider airtight, “—It would be even worse in your case of all... You – you would... I’m aware that you fear me.”

Sharply, Severus looked straight into Remus’ eyes. Seeing in their unyielding amber that there was no discussing this belief, he gave a deep sigh, which turned into a yawn. “You have said that a thousand times already—” he noted, drawling lazily. In all truth, that thousand at best equalled three, but it was tired either way.

“...Maybe...” Remus considered him. “—though you know what you said yourself—“ he recalled, referring to that one, damned, anger-ridden remark from months ago. “Since that, back then, was under the influence of something, from what I’ve inferred—“

_—you think the kernel of truth is still there..._

There was no need to actually quote Severus on this. Often, he did not entirely understand why some people tended to make scenes out of his comments. In this case, however, he knew perfectly well where and when his jab hit. It had left a scar; one which back then he wouldn’t have expected to be sentenced to deal with.

“I am not exactly famous for keeping to my pledges, am I?” Severus sent a signifying look to his left arm, hidden underneath the covers.

“Right—“ Remus conceded reluctantly, with only a shadow of a smile. He curled a strand of Severus’ hair around his forefinger and looked at him almost pleadingly. “But you never really deny the fear part, do you?”

 _That’s because I am trying not to lie to you. It would be worthless to say ‘I don’t’, when that is not true. And I would be an idiot not to fear at all._ Severus bit down a response that involved comparing himself to who he knew had probably faced Remus’ doubts of this sort in the past (and calling them either idiots or liars).

Forcing on the parody of a smile that both the Lupins enjoyed seeing, he asked, “Do I not?” His fingers climbed up Remus’ collarbone and neck. The faint hairs of stubble spreading below his jaw were rough against Severus’ fingertips. His skin in itself, however, though speckled with firmer bits of scars, was always so delicate. When their gazes met, this time Remus’ was softer again. “Where did the good, ancient ‘actions speak louder than blabber’ go, then?” Severus wondered, pinching the skin below one of the bruises around Remus’ Adam’s apple.

He turned out to be convincing, enough so that Remus leaned towards him with a kiss.

After that, for some time (after each of such talks there seemed to be a longer pause until another), Remus was assuaged.

It took Severus a while to discover that, but, while Remus rarely lost control over himself in any manner, foolproof ways of achieving that existed. Thankfully.

Remus always grasped him when he was coming. He never searched for purchase anywhere else – always in him, and with the force of a drowning man pulling at a lifeline. Severus wasn’t entirely sure how that made him feel – _necessary, perhaps._

Now, Remus was sheathed in him and pulsing. The rhythm of his thrusts was disrupted by the wave of pleasure rippling through him, ripping a ragged sound from his throat. His hand, clasped over the back of Severus’, twitched as if he wanted to lift it.

“Please don’t silence—yourself—“ Severus rasped out. Perhaps it was the ‘please’ that changed it, because he listened, this time.

Another growling groan came from him, louder this time. It was followed by “God!”, then Severus’ name, gasped out from in between the crackling flames of Remus’ voice.

Severus’ hands balled on the sheets as the feeling of being filled mixed with the one of hearing that warmth, that adoring thrill in the noises Remus was making. He let the ones wringed out of him escape, devoid of concerns of the sort Remus was finally forsaking.

The grasp of Remus’ fingers tightened both over his hand and in his hair. With them tangled in the strands, Remus tugged at the wisps as if to tear them out, tilting his head back. In the next second, Severus simultaneously felt lips – then the wet sharpness of teeth – on his skin and himself hardening under Remus’ touch. Then, suddenly, Lupin tensed. He drew back his lips from his skin and the grip of his fingers softened. He didn’t stop – _yet –_ Severus suspected, his brain barely able to realise the reason behind that. 

Abruptly deprived of the welcome harshness, Severus wanted it to return just as immediately. “Do that – again—” he panted, louder than he thought he would be able to.

“Do what?” Remus’ voice was unsteady. Still, it could be thick with apprehension rather than any more appropriate sort of agitation.

Furious at him for not understanding when he couldn’t trust himself to form a coherent thought, not to mention uttering a whole sentence, Severus choked out, “—Lupin” in place of an explanation.

Somehow, that smothered what was left an ember of Remus’ composure. “You forgot – the magic word—“ he said, hoarsely, but firmly. Once again, he twisted Severus’ hairs around his fingers, making him lift his head up. Now he did halt in his movements, holding his hips almost still against Severus.

The very moment he had gathered enough breath to speak again, Severus proved to himself once more that he was not above begging. “Please—Remus.” It didn’t even bother him how it was undeniably a moan.

He was not entirely sure, at that point, whether he had ever used his name like that before. Yet, it certainly paid off, causing Remus to abandon his _idiotic_ doubts and pick up the crescendo again. Remus leaned down, the warmth of his body palpable through the fabric on Severus’ back. The werewolf’s teeth sunk into the bare skin of his nape, light and careful not to break the skin. Severus gulped for air, feeling himself still. He shuddered under Remus as a wave of orgasm tore right through him.

The searing pain on his arm always erupted along with the sensation and so it was even more like being aflame. The skin of his scalp was stinging pleasantly, Remus’ nails scratching its surface. The wound snaking around his neck burned with venom, accompanied by the new one on the other side of his nape. It too was marked by a set of teeth, but which he had quite literally invited. Lightly inflamed, it was titillating.

He went limp against Remus’ arms, wrapping around his waist after the man had pulled out of him slowly, kissing the thin line of skin above his collar. Remus’ tongue was edging gently along the irritated patch of Severus’ skin, as if to alleviate what pain he could have possibly caused there.

 _Apparently, it **is** bloody politeness that works with him. _– Severus noted dazedly, in a sort of conclusion. He felt himself being rolled onto his back by Remus’ scorching hands and let him do that, because, _fuck,_ there was no need to struggle for control, when he simply didn’t have to.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He couldn’t be entirely sure, because if someone asked him (not that that was likely to ever happen) he would probably describe Severus’ sleep schedule as insane no matter the exact hours. However, for a week or so, it seemed even more unbalanced than the usual. When Remus was woken up in the night, he could judge by the light that it was not so much ‘a night’ as it was an early morning.

For as long as it wasn’t he who couldn’t sleep that away later, Remus didn’t mind too much. Personally, he rarely found falling back asleep difficult if he felt relatively safe and he did, when wrapped up in a cuddle.

On the first day of Wolfsbane-taking that month, Remus finally discovered the cause of Severus mysterious busyness. It turned out that he was working on altering the potion, “so that Edward doesn’t become a full orphan for that, of all possible reasons.”

Automatically, Remus protested. “The mere fact that you do make Wolfsbane for me – that’s way over enough, you know it is – and I feel like I don’t thank you for that enough…” Severus’ rolled eyes said clearly that he was thanking him too much. Despite that, Remus continued, “—You’re already overworked, so you didn’t have to—“

“Indeed, I did not have to. Already did bits of it earlier, however—” Severus admitted. “Last two Moons.”

 _So I wasn’t imagining after all!_ The realisation blinded Remus. The differences had been subtle, but he had noticed them and was doubting his own reliability ever since.

He must have been gaping at him with wonder, because Severus found it fit to call him back to order. “Wolfsbane, altered or no, is usually drank, not inhaled—” he reminded with a smirk, pushing the steaming goblet closer to Remus.

“I—you—“ Remus stuttered and covered that up by gulping his portion down. Like last two times – it wasn’t as mouth-twisting. Now he also distinguished a completely new taste amongst the moderate bitterness. Putting the chalice away, he asked, with feigned resentment, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“—Though I’m not sure what I’d do without you—“ he added after a short pause. All that remark did, was bring out a blush to add to Severus’ ironic scowl.

“I do have my assumptions, actually.” Severus’ seriousness simultaneously consorted well and terribly with those words. Remus ignored that, thoughts drifting away into his memories concerning the medicine.

“You know how many times I’ve resorted to uncertified sellers in my life?” He gestured for Severus to sit down.

Apparently, the headmaster had decided to take a longer break from his work, because he did that without hesitation.

“—Basically every time I had the money. Which wasn’t often, of course… In the early days, once I was even buying it over from a Hogwarts student.” Remus swallowed hardly. The girl could be dead by now, though hopefully her family helped her run away. He hadn’t seen her in the Prophets, after all. “—‘Buying’ is a big word in that. It then turned out she was giving away her own—“

“If I hadn’t known Greyback—“ Severus cut in, spitting out the name with disgust Remus associated with the surname ‘Black’ in his speech. The expression running across his face was even harsher than that would have awakened. His normal, slightly mocking indifference returned quickly. “I would have started wondering whether werewolfishness comes with altruistic stupidity.”

“I’m afraid not—“ Remus felt compelled to correct.

At this point he trusted that nothing he could say would vilify the werewolves in Severus’ eyes. His views on their carnage were clear and his personal approach to the matter had shifted drastically as well.

Thus, Remus went on, “—Many werewolves help…ed each other, yes—like Chiara—who I, by the way, of course stopped buying from the moment I found out—“

“Like I would ever suspect **you** of doing otherwise—” Severus said with an odd mix of derision and respect in his tone.

“—Either way, as I said, there were those—Livana, for example. She sort of held a house for werewolves who’d been thrown out of their homes—or Caius, who was getting Wolfsbane ingredients through collecting, sometimes from disputable sources.” Remus smiled wistfully to himself. “I’m pretty sure he was stealing some of them, though there were only good intentions behind it—and who was also one of the first ones I’ve gotten away from Greyback. Not that there were too many of those...”

He closed his eyes for a moment. The images of werewolves he had known as an agent and then saw portrayed as beasts in the Prophet played beneath his eyelids. Then, he heard the soft clamour of porcelain coming from the kitchenette. _Well of course he would think of this –_ Remus thought, opening his eyes again. He had turned in that direction and had to then look around, realising Severus was still seated next to him. Wand in his hand, he was setting the kettle on without getting up.

“—However, there were worse ones, too – and I’m not necessarily saying the Greyback-likes, who believed in it, no. But, for example, there was one, sort-of-merchant, I’d call him, who notoriously sold fake Wolfsbane to people, mainly to get money to buy ingredients for his own one. That’s what people have to do sometimes—“

“Understandable, yes—” Severus agreed. “You are not telling me you let him gull you on it, are you?” he then asked, finally standing up to properly take care of the tea.

“Well—“ Remus hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. “—I suppose it’s easy for you to say how to differentiate – but I, and especially back then – it was soon after the first war, so I didn’t have the experience or the will to check anything properly. I was making mistake after mistake at that time in regards to my wolfishness, I’d say. Even with others’ safety…” he confided, regretfully. Severus just gave a crisp nod. Knowing his views on Remus’ responsibility in that aspect, he probably wasn’t too surprised. “—So when I finally had the will to get Wolfsbane – and the money of course, which I rarely ever had – I wasted both, actually. Thank you – oh – peppermint, this time – and I was lucky it was a complete fake, I suppose, though I still got kind of poisoned, you could say...”

He watched his expression to find signs of condemnation, but Severus’ face was just inscrutably grave. As he circled the table to his side and sat down again, Remus added, “Honestly, it’s a miracle I never died.”

Severus’ eyes glimmered with grim confirmation or, maybe, understanding. Silence fell for a moment, one of the knowing and not entirely comfortable kind.

After a while, Remus broke it, looking at Severus with gratefulness he winced back at. “—That one year you were making it for me—Merlin, it gave me the best basis to compare other potionmakers to, so I wouldn’t get hurt by just drinking whatever—“

They spent the following half an hour talking Remus’ experience with Wolfsbane and the werewolf community as it was before “all of this”. Remus, of course, was doing all the talking there, but Severus listened intently. Later, they went on to all the possible adverse effects of the potion that Remus was to be on the lookout for. Those included fainting, shortness of breath, headaches… Even exactly what it was supposed to guard him against – heart failure. Since some of them could show up only after the first dosage, this explained why Severus had stayed with him for a while here. Although, even after that excuse had expired, he was still there, talking with Remus.

In the end, Lupin had to jokingly remind the “esteemed Hogwarts’ Headmaster” that he should probably get back to his office.

\---

Severus had his ways of omitting the truth and always so that he bordered on lying, but did not actually commit it.

Usually, it was on the matters of feelings. Remus, though still learning about him in that area, was becoming more and more able to discern them through his smokescreens. At other times, it was with his sometimes misguided, but always well-intentioned notions of guarding people. The latter was exactly what was going on with the whole “not minding a werewolf” thing.

In this case, the person he was trying to protect was Remus himself.

It was the choice that counted and he trusted Severus’ choices. Thus, he was trying to stop himself from constantly checking whether he hadn’t changed his mind on the whole issue. What he wanted in return, however, was complete honesty on the matter, even if he knew it would hurt him.

When it came to telling if he was scared, Severus could do whatever verbal acrobatics he wished to, to dodge the truth. Still, Remus knew better – felt better, actually. He wanted him to admit it – just that, a simple “Yes” validating Remus’ doubts. It wouldn’t change anything, except for maybe digging the deep, moon-shaped wound inside him a little bit deeper. However, in that out of all things he was asked to do _(in bed, at least...)_ , Severus absolutely refused to comply.

In yet another display of his extreme ( _and admirable_ ) stubbornness, Severus was determined to prove to him that he wasn’t scared. It was the same insistency that caused him to buy Teddy Easter presents, because it hadn’t occurred to Remus to repeat his no-presents-plea before this holiday as well. Or to argue for two hours that Draco should be held away from their case. Or to keep on putting the kettle away onto the other burner than the one Remus preferred it standing on.

Seeing it quite plainly for what it was – a proof that Severus cared about him and deeply – Remus never actually minded it. At least that remained so until one March morning, exactly five days before the Full Moon. That was the day when Severus announced to him something so insane he would never have considered him capable of insisting on it.

“Wha—what do you mean – ‘you want to be there’?” Remus said crisply, not raising his voice mostly for the sake of Teddy, who was on the blanket with Frankie. “As in ‘in the transformation room’?” he asked, clutching at the last strand of hope that Severus was kidding.

Severus’ eyebrows rose patronisingly, as if Remus had just marvelled at the sky being blue. “Yes—” he sighed.

Remus put down his hand holding the fork a little too forcefully and both the elf and the kid turned their heads to the noise. Severus, however, was still staring him down calmly, with a serious, yet condescending, expression plastered onto his face.

“No. I won’t allow that – you cannot...” Remus protested fervently. “You can’t just risk your life like that. Have you lost your mind?”

“I have not—“ Severus replied, with infuriating composure. “I am capable of protecting myself. And there is nothing for you to allow or disallow. I am mainly telling you this for the sake of informing you in advance.”

“I won’t let you—“ Remus repeated, feeling his own muscles tense. “—I-I’ll change the password and you won’t be able to enter at all—“

“If you are this insistent on accidentally dying – for all means – do so.” Severus drawled with irony in response to his ‘threat’. For a second, he brought his fingers, previously gracefully curled around a teacup’s handle, to the bridge of his nose. “But I believe I’ve told you about the risks. So you changing the password is absolutely out of the question. And so is – you being in there alone.”

The last sentence came out incredibly softly, like a balm intended to alleviate Remus’ fear and anger. However, the flames inside him only grew with that buttery addition.

“Well, of course it is so, if you’re only telling me this now—“ Remus huffed. “—Now, when you can’t change Wolfsbane back anymore – and you didn’t so much as mention that when you first gave me it... Even then, it would make more sense. Now – now I have to agree. Once again, you’re putting me in a situation where I don’t really have a choice, do I? You haven’t told me earlier, because you knew perfectly well what I’d think about this—” he added, standing up.

“Perhaps—“ Severus admitted. His narrowed, obsidian eyes, were still spiking Remus’, which were no doubt ignited the same way his skin felt. That scalding anger bubbling in Remus was only fed more, when he heard the velvety voice again. “But we both know that given the choice you would have made a mistake.”

“So you just chose for me?! You think you can do that?” Remus asked heatedly, grasping the back of his now vacant chair and fighting the exhausting battle to keep his tone level. “In your omnipotence which makes you choose so much better than the people you’re choosing for would…” He said, alluding to Severus’ attempted shielding of Draco, which he had managed to talk him out of. “—did you, for even a moment, take into account how terribly it would **feel** for me if I hurt you?”

Severus’ gaze sharpened even more before he answered. “You will not hurt me.” Then, voice dripping with sarcasm, he added, “And of course, that is certainly why I did it for in the first place – to make you feel worse. That, so obviously, was my aim here.”

It took most of the strength Remus had to sit back down when Severus beckoned him to do so.

While taking a seat, he swept the room with a brief glance. Teddy was currently building a blue floor of his creation, which bore a faint resemblance to a tower. His hair was coloured accordingly – richly cobalt curls bobbing on his head as he leaned to the blocks. The clock, far above the kid’s play-space, was implacable. It showed that soon Severus would have to leave, so didn’t have much time for discussing. Still, Remus wasn’t going to let him escape it before the matter was settled. The problem, however, was that there was little but for Severus’ option to settle on.

“You believing it doesn’t make it true, Severus—” Remus said. He was pondering over when exactly he should have drawn the line earlier on the wolfishness issue, as so to avoid this escalation. Guilt flooded him, even though so far he had been content with the results of his _regretful_ decisions. Yet, shortly, his mind ventured into imagining how it would be not to spend the Full Moon alone, for the first time in years...

“Don’t insult me like that—“ Severus pleaded, with quite prim facetiousness. “I do not ‘believe in’ such things, I test them. That is the point of all of this, after all. And as for dealing with wolf-form werewolves, I **know** I can manage.”

A part of Remus wanted to simply agree. The rest of him understood how egoistic it would be to allow Severus to risk his safety and possibly even humanity (or life), _just so I can feel protected and less lonely._

“—And in a way that will not permanently maim you, obviously.” Severus assured him, as if that was the thing Remus had doubts about.

“I—“ Remus began and discovered that all sensible arguments had abandoned him. He wished to argue his point, he really did. It was a reasonable one. However, as he had already noted – Severus had him cornered about this. Now he met his fathomless eyes again, catching an upward quirk of his lip as he did so. “Thank you—” he finally managed to get the words out. Aggravatingly, the ones he had couched didn’t represent what he felt at all, so he continued, “But I hate when you do this, you know? And if the potion doesn’t work at all – if I don’t have control – if something happens to you because of the wolf, because of me—“

“Nothing will, to either of us.” Severus’ hand reached out in his direction, though then he hesitated. Remus grabbed and held it in his, pressing them both to his thigh. His skin was cold in the nightshirt he still had on, partly pulled up in his sitting position. However, it would never be as freezing as Severus’ fingers on it, cool even through the fabric.

“I’ll bring you up on that, one day.” The joke felt incongruent with his gloomy musings on what could go wrong during the Moon, not to say – in any more distant future.

On that small sign of joyfulness from him, Severus let his smirk show fully. “Yes, why don’t you twist my words—“ he retorted. “—This, I shall add for the record, pertains solely to this particular situation.”

“Oh really?” Remus went on, this time feeling himself smile a bit. “So, then—“ he faked disappointment, “—this wasn’t a no-matter-what promise? There’ll be no frantic ‘we’ll live happily ever after’ vows? Where’s the romance in that?”

Severus scowled and his gaze darted to the clock. “I have to go now. And wouldn’t know, would I?” He got up from his seat, only ripping his fingers from Remus’ after both their hands had slid off Lupin’s leg.

Swiftly, Remus stood up at his side. _Actually, I’m starting to believe you would_ – he thought, kissing him on the cheek. He didn’t do so on his lips, still askew, mainly because that wouldn’t give him the room for whispering “You impossible fool—” right to his ear.

If those words made Severus blush, Remus was robbed of the possibility to see that. The moment he took a step back from him, Severus turned with a swish and headed to the blanket.

He knelt by it, briefly, to Teddy’s happy crowing. When Severus got up again, the kid tried to grasp the hem of his robe. Frankie caught him deftly, meanwhile giving a bow to her departing master. Then, she turned to Remus with a smile and the beaming, still blue-haired Teddy in her arms.

\---

He had had four whole days to fret over the matter and to talk it through with Severus thoroughly and both those things he had been doing. Yet, only now did he truly experience the throttling anxiety, clenching its Dementor-like fingers around his neck.

A realisation assailed him the night before – depending on the amount of consciousness he’d have, his worst type of nightmare could come true. It could happen that he would have the human understanding, but no control.

“It will not.” Severus repeated that morning, for what was the tenth or maybe twelfth time in total, and with Remus’ arm still wrapped around his middle. He said that in his most jadedly protracted tone, though without so much as a hint of irritation. “My potions work if I say they do. And you would be best advised to accept that as an infallible fact, Remus.”

Today, when he was leaving for the office, he kissed Remus on the forehead. It was atypically affectionate as for him during the daylight hours. “You will be fine—“ he said with that, harsh though soothing, indisputable certainty. Before he walked away, he looked into Remus’ eyes, as if pushing his own conviction into them.

Remus wished he had succeeded in that.

Although he desperately wanted to believe him, neither his mind nor body obeyed all the commands about being calm. Instead, he was finding himself increasingly restless.

Now, locked in the Transformation Room, he was slightly hunched over a piece of parchment on the desk and drawing. Every now and then, he had to stop to scratch the scar on his right hand. It was getting itchier by the minute. Every time he did that, he had to first put away the coal, but those disturbances did not make his sketch come out any slower.

It was satisfying to watch his own work unravel before his eyes, even when he was as stressed as right now. Besides, concentrating on the landscape – in this case, the one he had been dreaming of – and little figures of humans and seagulls, was grounding. It took his mind off more troubling issues, like what terrible things could happen if Severus entered while he transformed. _Where the hell is he?_ – Remus wondered. He knew him too well to assume he had quit on his promise.

Remus only ever learnt how to enchant his drawings for the sake of the people he was gifting them to. He still cultivated doing that as the last part of creating, preferring not enchanted, writing coal, to draw. Therefore, the silhouettes of the kids running through the beach were still, with the sea frozen motionless at their feet, when the coal finally fell out of his hand.

A jolt of pain shot through his spine, then another. _The Moon has risen, then._ The third one followed swiftly. Remus felt his body changing shape, all bones twisting and turning, sending aches through his muscles. However, there was no agony in the pain. It resembled the post-Moon soreness more than it did the usual strain of the transformation itself.

It took longer than what he was used to until he turned fully.

He scanned through his mind and body for the adverse effects Severus had warned him about, finding nothing. It seemed that his consciousness had remained quite human too.

Partly hidden under the desk he had slid beside while transforming, he lay despondent, inspecting himself in search of any of differences from the altered potion. Then, the door opened, tentatively. First, a wand entered the room, after it – its owner. Remus lifted his wolfish head from the carpet as Severus stopped in the doorway. Severus looked around and, having located the wolf, curved his thin lips in a half-smile.

He had what looked like leather armour around his waist and neck. Then at least he had done his research – that much Remus had to give him. However, as Remus realised with outrage, Severus’ wand, while drawn, wasn’t pointing at him.

“Couldn’t have come earlier. An issue with one of Pomona’s.” Severus explained himself, closing the door. “But you **are** fine, I see—” he added, in a tone that made uttering the “I told you so” unnecessary.

Remus wagged his tail to confirm he was in his right mind. That made Severus slide his wand back into his sleeve.

The dressing gown, which had fallen off Remus’ back as he morphed, was crumpled up on the floor. Clearly acting on impulse (considering how this made him vulnerable to the wolf), Severus bent down to take it. He folded it skilfully with a flick of his wand.

When he was finished with that, he put it away onto the seat of the chair. Again, he then hid the wand in its sheathe. Remus couldn’t even let his irritation at that recklessness show. As far as he knew, that would translate to barring his teeth, which he would rather avoid doing in the current circumstances.

The smell of sassafras was much more intensive now that Severus was in a room he had never been to before. Mingled with a leathery one, it filled the cramped room. Remus could distinguish the scent of fear, too, though it was oddly less discernible than what he was used to. _He’s occluding. And I probably only feel it because I’m a wolf now._ Human eloquence flew easily within the tide of his thoughts, once again ensuring him the Wolfsbane was working correctly.

Severus halted by the desk, next to where he was lying. Remus craned his neck to watch him leaning over the desktop above. “I suspected you draw—“ Severus stated.

_Did you, now?_

Remus had presumed this was his little secret. In the past he rarely flaunted that ability amongst people other than very good friends, which he had few. He hadn’t been purposefully hiding it from Severus. Simply – usually he was drawing in this room while waiting for transformation. Occasionally, his parchment and Frankie-bought coal travelled outside of it, but then it was mostly in early afternoon, when Teddy was sleeping. _Well, maybe Severus remembers this from school too –_ he reasoned.

Timidly, Remus got up from the carpet, so that his paws and tail would be safe from being accidentally stepped on.

“May I see other ones?” Severus asked with sincere-sounding interest. He looked at the wolf walking around him only when he expected the answer.

Remus wagged his tail in agreement again and indicated one of the desk’s drawers with his snout. Then, having scooted over to let Severus access it, he sat down on again. Unsure whether he hadn’t made a mistake by agreeing, he observed Severus shyly. Many of the drawings depicted Order members, including the ones that went better unmentioned between the two of them. Remus, on his part, would probably be less than happy to find Severus drawing, say, Narcissa Malfoy, were the roles reversed. Others, which, on the other hand could embarrass and not upset, them both, were even more numerous.

_If he gets mad and-or jealous at that ‘Dora sitting on the washing machine’ one, or the Sirius & Buckbeak, in that drawer, then I’ll only have myself to blame for it. I’m on a mistake-streak today already, one could say... _

Severus began rummaging through the contents of the drawer methodically. He was taking out piece by piece, examining it, then putting it onto a pile forming on the desktop. All throughout that process he was standing, with his neck bent at an unhealthy angle. Focused on his task, Severus wasn’t interrupting himself to so much as glance at the wolf. Remus, pained by his out-of-place assuredness and by being ignored, kept watching him, awaiting a reaction. Soon he got just that.

After taking out another piece of parchment from the drawer, Severus froze, with it clutched in his hand.

From the ground, Remus couldn’t see which one it was, but he had his suspicions. They were confirmed when Severus said, in a highly incredulous tone, “You drew me. You drew me with Teddy. Flying.”

_Yes. And please, please don’t look into the drawer on the left, because I drew you more than once. More than a dozen of times, I’m afraid._

When Severus had finally finished browsing through the collection of sketches, he didn’t seem put off or irritated. Instead, a shadow of admiration flickered through his face when he locked his gaze with Remus’ wolfish eyes. “Frankly, I am surprised you never offered the old crowd’s ones to use for the letters’ protection—” he said, grabbing a few pieces of parchment off the desk and showing them to him.

Remus wished he could answer him more comprehensively than the animal form allowed. Now – that his ‘art’ fell far behind photographs in matters of faithfulness, though also thank him for the compliment. _His type of one, though it’s kind of missing a slight criticism at the end_.

Then, Severus put the sheets together again and shoved them back into their drawer. He turned around abruptly, catching Remus in the rather awkward act of scratching his ear. It truly was amazing how itchy a werewolf’s head was compared to a human one. However, his hands – _paws now_ – hadn’t ceased to tingle either.

“Why don’t I do that for you?” Severus offered unexpectedly, leaning down to him.

Before Remus could even react to that, Severus began scratching him behind his ear. He was treating him exactly the way he had said he’d try his best to – like a big silver dog.

Earlier that week, he told him about the dog he had years ago. It was a stray, with copper-coloured fur and a long snout, a tad resembling of a fox. After begging him and his mum for food, it followed them home. Then, for a few weeks, it kept accompanying Severus on his walks to the muggle school. He smuggled bits of food for it and pesterd his mother until she agreed to sometimes let the dog inside. From its long neck and “the way he craned it when around anything that could qualify as esculent” Severus named the dog Crane. Allegedly, Crane possessed the talent of differentiating between hard to distinguish potion ingredients and sniffing valuable plants out in the wild. 

“Didn’t live for long, the poor mutt—“ Severus concluded, in a bored tone of a wireless’ weatherman. “Father never liked living things in the house. Neither did his friends, especially when inebriated. He kicked Crane dead when he bit him, then threw him, in agony, outside the door. I stayed with the dog there, but accidental magic helped little.” Even told with absolutely no maudlin, the story didn’t lose its tragic timbre. After he’d said it whole, Remus could imagine an eight year old Severus curled around the body of his dead pet. He only didn’t let his sadness at that vision become too obvious, because he knew Severus would hate feeling pitied.

Now, Severus was crouching right by him with the assuredness of a previous dog-owner indeed. No matter how hard Remus tried, he couldn’t see a shadow of fear in the black eyes, exactly on the level of his own. Through fur, Severus’ hand didn’t feel as cold, and his nails made the unpleasant crawling sensation go away quickly.

Remus looked at him gratefully, though hell knew how much of that was visible to a human eye. Snouts were less expressive than faces, that much he could figure. However, he had never actually had people around him during transformation. Although Sirius would definitely have been willing to take such a risk, Remus always insisted on him changing, even when he had been gifted Wolfsbane by him.

In a moment, Severus stood up again. “I brought a book—” he announced, walking up to the bed and sitting down on the verge of it.

Curious, Remus tilted his head.

“Muggle and of the boring kind you detest, I am afraid.” Severus smirked, brandishing the black and green cover.

 _Well, they’re not boring –_ Remus made a mental note to argue later. _Just long and usually depressing, which doesn’t mix well, as far as my reading-pace is concerned._

Since wolf eyes didn’t allow him to read very well, Remus had to wait for him to announce the author – yet another muggle with a Russian sounding surname – and the title, on his own. Severus only did so after a moment, when he realised that Remus’ stare was uncomprehending. Then, he pushed the blankets deeper onto the bed and patted on the duvet next to himself.

Remus pretended not to have seen that invitation.

“—Now without those ridiculous qualms, I beg of you.” Severus indicated the place again.

Gingerly, Remus climbed onto the bed, though keeping a distance from him. Before opening the book, but with the wolf already close to him, Severus took off the leathery parts covering his robe. Once again forced to swallow his annoyance, Remus hoped to at least look pissed off with him.

Clearly, he had succeeded in humanly furrowing his brow with reproach, because glancing at him, Severus asked, “What? It is not like the potion will suddenly cease working.”

With his finger already prising the cover of the book, Severus leaned against the pillows. Sullenly and with reluctance, Remus curled up next to him, still sending him sparking glares from underneath his unmarked brows.

Severus began reading. His fingers were threading through Remus’ fur gently, as he patted or scratched him with one hand, repetitively lifting it to turn the pages.

This time, it was a collection of short stories, making it both more bearable to stomach and suitable for this kind of use. Use, which (something was telling Remus) was going to be a recurrent one, even after Severus would have been reassured about the potion working well.

Although the transformation was less draining than the usual, it didn’t take Remus long to start feeling drowsy. Yawning, he noted with amusement that Severus mirrored the gesture – apparently, it was contagious no matter the species. Remus’ assuredness of his safety and acceptance of this had grown during the time Severus had been there. Nevertheless, he raised his eyes at him cautiously before shifting. Guessing his intention, Severus nodded.

Remus moved his paws, currently resting on Severus’ lap, before laying his head between them, no longer looking at him. Probably not to disturb Remus in falling asleep, Severus extinguished the flames in the main candelabra. He continued reading aloud with just the faint flame of the lamp by the bed.

Severus’ robe smelled faintly of flowers and very much of him. His voice slowly eased into a melodious susurrus, as soft as the blanket Remus had been covered with. Drifting away into slumber, Remus thought that all of this seemed quite like a particularly wild dream.

The pain of transformation back into a human was often bland enough for him to sleep through it, especially on medicine. Not this time, however.

Apparently, the lack of convulsing aches before had to be evened out at least a little.

The force of his body changing tore him out of sleep brutally. His, neither human nor wolfish in that moment, outcry pierced the air of the small room. Through the pain, he was sure he was completely alone there, at least until he felt a set of thin fingers squeeze his morphing shoulder.

His breathing eased simultaneously with Severus’, whose quickened either by fear or worry, or a mix of both.

Once it had ended, Remus didn’t have the strength to shift into a more human-appropriate position. He was barely able to turn his body, pulsing with ache of the tender muscles, to lie on his back. Severus aided him in that, pushing him delicately to the side. Cool air attacked Remus’ skin with fresh ruthlessness, but then he was tucked underneath the blankets again, and kissed on his sweat-covered forehead.

Too exhausted and engulfed in sleepiness to say anything, and too heavy-eyed to look at him with the persistently surprised admiration he was feeling, Remus just willed Severus to realise all that without saying. Slumber drowned him again shortly, with Severus’ hand resting on his chest.

When he woke up again, the enchanted picture was showing the sun already high up in the sky. The covers on it, previously drawn not to further rouse the wolf by the sight of the Moon, were pulled apart now. In the bright, though devoid of warmth, golden light, Remus stretched. One of the pillows from under his nape fell to the floor – he had been lying across the bed, with his head close to its edge.

The room was empty but for himself now. Yet, Remus knew he hadn’t imagined Severus’ being there before. The signs of his visit were still present. The herbal smells lingered inside, especially on one of the blankets, folded neatly at the head of the bed, with the clothes Remus had prepared for himself yesterday on top of it.

Although not yet ready to actually get up, Remus reached for them. While doing so, he noted with surprise that his hands had a limited mobility. He looked at them to see a bandage wrapped skilfully up to his wrists. Evidently, he had scratched himself in the wolf form more harshly than he had expected.

When he ruffled the construction of folded materials next to him, he found the follow up to the dressing – a card was lying on top of the clothes. It was a small, folded piece of parchment, filled with minuscule black lettering he’d grown so familiar with. _“You had some sort of an allergic reaction. But why on Earth did you have to scratch it, you impulsive idiot? I will not be wasting any more murtlap on you.”_ Severus had written to balance out all his affection.

 _Well, he’d failed to do that quite considerably_ – Remus thought, burrowing his fond smile in the folded blanket. His nose was filled with the notes of Teddy’s teething potion, sassafras and so on, or, more simply – _Severus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the academic year is back, it's likely that the updates will switch to biweekly for now, or at least the next one probably will. 


	21. The Cherry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, in some parts, this is a very emotionally draining chapter - or at least it was so for me, while writing. On top of that - the times are rough (pandemic's making its comeback and such), so get yourself a hot cup of cocoa with marshmallows or something of the sort for reading. Generally, both in regards to that and the aforementioned pandemic - take care <3 
> 
> **Trigger warnings:** Description of a very drunk person and connectedly - mentions of substance abuse. Past sexual abuse (not too descriptive, but quite emotional).  
>  If you want to skip the sexual abuse part: go from “It could also be a combination of all those reasons” to “Thankfully, Severus left him alone with his thoughts for a while". Or, for only skipping the harshest part of that story: to "Giving a heavy nod" (this allows you to get mostly the comfort part of the h/c).

The tall woman walked into the room slumping slightly, as if not fully comfortable with her height. Her manicured hands were clutched tightly around a black clipboard. By her side walked the camerawoman, who seemed more assured of the two. Yet, when the arrival of the interview’s subject was announced, she too lost her composure – her hand flew to the glistening black waves of hair, anxiously rubbing a lock between her fingers.

The tall blonde’s name was Jane Smith.

She was an accomplished journalist, especially considering her age. Try as they might, neither Simon nor John couldn’t find the issue of Times in which Smith’s first article had been published. However, Simon recalled it with great detail along with the admiration he’d felt for it while reading. That did influence the decision about granting her permission to interview the Family for an incoming movie.

The Family’s growing dislike for the press on the course of the last few years was not a secret. Now, in those trying times of the end of the century, inviting journalists was hazardous at best. At the same time, everybody here understood that a bit of good press could work miracles.

Personally as well, the woman made a great impression on John. She was knowledgeable and considerate, without a shadow of overconfidence that often emanated of successful youngsters like her.

The only shadow falling onto her reputation had been spotted by the Prime Minister. He claimed to suspect her of a connection to the columnist ruthlessly criticising the recent law changes in Britain – Joan Wilkinson. Indeed, the two women had worked for similar newspapers, but Joan, who was the older of them, had left each of them a good few months before Smith applied for the jobs. Thus, in the end, the accusations turned out baseless.

Now, due to the Queen’s last minute change of mind, the camerawoman was told to wait outside. For a mere second, the colleagues looked at each other meaningfully, Jane with a glimmer of apprehension in her blue eyes. As the camerawoman smiled and nodded, the blonde seemed to have regained some of her sanguinity. Still, while she walked into the indicated room between the Royal Guards, she was nervous. Her fingers twitched on the handle of her handbag, causing her to linger in the doorway for a stretched-out second. Before the door had closed, her hand dived into the bag, fishing out a pen.

Meanwhile, the camerawoman gave a small, childish pout of her dark lips. Ducking to fold up the tripod, she hid her expression from any onlookers. She collected all of the equipment and then carried it outside, back to the van parked quite a length from the palace.

Like the whole spring so far, the day was cold and misty. A slight drizzle had fallen in the morning hours, but it had stopped raining a while ago. That could have been why the driver, waiting inside the cherry-coloured car, had the darkened window half-open. Or perhaps he had left it that way to hear the brunette’s plea for help, which never came. He wasn’t too attentive in his waiting; clearly preoccupied with something, he was turning a twig around on the dashboard.

The camerawoman approached the car assuredly. Only when she was a few steps away, did the driver finally notice her. The twig still in his hands, he jumped up to help her and as a result hit himself in the knee.

Waving at him to sit back down, she went straight to the boot of the van, mumbling, “He shouldn’t do that ‘round muggles—“ under her breath. She leaped into the boot with the equipment and slid the door after her with a thunderous slam. “They didn’t bloody let me in!” she exclaimed irritably, when a questioning grunt came from somewhere inside the car.

“Told you so—“ came a languorous voice from the backseat. The sound from before must have come from there too, considering how the driver was still busy massaging his knee. The speaker himself, however, couldn’t be observed. The seats around were empty. Yet, while the camerawoman was shoving the tripod away indecorously, a slight crease of leather showed itself. It looked as if someone had just leaned backwards.

“—Thanks Merlin we have River there—“ the bodiless voice added, once the door in the back had been closed.

“Sure...” the woman responded, sounding both unconvinced and completely unmoved by the invisibility of her interlocutor. Scrambling out of the boot to the front, she continued, “But you should’ve seen how bloody stressed out she was. It’s the damned queen we’re talking, not someone just anyone can get through to—“

“Which is exactly why she hadn’t been bewitched yet—“ the ghost from the backseat noted, shifting to the side so that the camerawoman could fit into the seat next to him. “And I’m sure Dilettante’ll do just fine.”

On the voice’s last words the driver turned to the back, his brown brow furrowed.

“Yes, I do have to call her that, Renegade.” The backseat spectre pre-empted a question with ease suggesting he must have heard it countless times before. There was a hint of truculence in his tone. The driver grimaced, opening his mouth to speak, but the ghost went on, “—and besides, she agreed.” Whether he meant – to her pseudonym or to something else – like the secret mission Jane clearly was carrying out – remained clear only to the three of the van’s passengers.

“Well, you’re saying that like she had a bloody choice—” the driver remarked, with an angry flush to his face.

“Hey, stay calm, please—“ the camerawoman placated, curling her hand around the driver’s bicep. “She’s going to be alright, you’ll see. And **you** —“ she turned to where the bodiless voice was coming from, “—shouldn’t get all high and mighty, when if it was Divine there, you’d be all over the place.” While admonishing, she made a face that would be much better complimented with a pair of pale cheeks as plump as her own and fiery red brows.

“Ex-fucking-actly—” Renegade agreed, sending her a grateful look. Then, probably to avoid being scolded himself, he reached back for the twig he’d been playing with and hid it in his pocket.

The spectre in the backseat gave a huff of indignation, though a subdued one, as if he too had been struck by the camerawoman’s sudden transformation. Then he said, with a defeated sigh, “Maybe. ‘Though, as the responsible one in here—“ He mimicked the tone of voice of someone they all must have known well, based on the looks the visible two exchanged. “—I’ve gotta tell you, you kids are cussing too much.”

“Oh bugger off, will you?” the camerawoman and the driver chorused.

All three members of the crew (since the ghost, clearly, also was one) burst out laughing. Although their laughter wasn’t completely mirthful – very fitting for their deeply careworn faces and voices alike – it did resonate in the red car quite joyfully.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a while, a long one by his standards from since the second war, everything in Severus’ life was fairly peaceful – or, at least, positively predictable. Even the summonings kept happening exactly when they should, not interceding with much. The whole ‘playing family’ thing with Lupin had its role in his calm too, he had to admit that. Even though lately that ‘family’ had gained itself the occasional addition of a rebellious teenager.

It was all too serene to last.

When he first heard of the drunken vagrant, who had stumbled into the school and got lost in the corridors, he had to resist the urge to check with a calendar whether April Fools truly had already passed.

Pretty soon, the possibility of that being a mere practical joke was, to his megrim, eradicated.

Pince reported her appearance to him. Then, adding, “She insisted on seeing you – I suppose for the sake of begging for a job, Headmaster,” led the way to where the vagabond was currently staying.

The chamber was located in her former tower, amongst the higher, unkempt levels of it.

Last time Severus had the questionable pleasure of setting a foot in there, olibanum and other vapours filled the stuffy rooms. Now, alcohol and a more acidic scent – possibly of vomit – had replaced them. Sunlight flew inside only through thin slits in the stone walls. Thus, murkiness reigned inside, dissipated only in places by the candlelight. The chandelier seemed rather tipsy itself – pitching from side to side and casting shaky shadows on the colourful medley.

The intruder composed well with all the other clutter. Sprawled on an armchair in a bundle of shawls, she was barely recognisable as a human between all the rags and pillows. Facing a window, she rested, perhaps blacked out.

They had already taken a few steps towards the chair before the woman reacted, proving she hadn’t been asleep. Her dirty and frayed blond hair, bringing to Severus’ mind a certain former Ravenclaw student of his, moved in a twitchy mane. Lifting itself up, it revealed the thin, red-nosed face of Sybill Trelawney.

For a while, her magnified eyes stared at him without comprehension. Eventually, a glimmer of it glistened behind the cracked lenses and she said, in the voice of a would-be floater just pulled out of water, “Severrrus—Headmasterrrr—“

Apparently too inebriated to keep track of her thoughts, she broke off. Immediately, she tried to cover that up by taking a gulp out of her flask.

Irma used up that moment to excuse herself from the room. “Well—“ She gave a small cough. “—I doubt I am necessary here anymore, and I do have the library hours until lunch—“ she declared, not sounding too concerned about her possible impoliteness.

Severus glanced at her repulsed wince. In envious agreement, he nodded, inwardly cursing the fact that he wasn’t able to follow her footsteps.

“Whatever brings you to my school—“ he began coarsely, while the doors screeched close after Irma. “—I will insist on you leaving its grounds, preferably today.”

“I—I—came to—I—“ Trelawney spluttered unsurely, her voice so brisk it bordered on frantic. “—I—wanted to—I am—I was—you—you need—you need a divination teacherrr—“ she finally stated, clearly proud of herself for forming that argument.

“The subject has been cut from the curriculum, which you had been informed about. Therefore, the answer is – still no.” Severus reminded with a sigh. “If that’s what brought you here, I would rather you leave. Instantly – on your own. Or else I will have you removed forcibly.”

Tears of desperation began gathering in her enormous eyes and Severus found himself aggravated by that sight. _As if you had anything to cry about. You brought this upon yourself._ The smell of wine oozing from her was waking up a piece of him, which could imagine himself having fallen as low as she had. He hated that reflection with all his might.

Sybill showed no signs of wanting to comply with his request. She was gaping at him silently, pressing a pillow to her chest like it was a child, but one she would not mind accidentally suffocating. Severus flicked his fingers to gain her attention.

Trelawney blinked a few times. Her now leaking eyes regained focus on him as she snivelled loudly into a green shawl.

“I said – leave. Or else you will be thrown out.”

This time she understood his words. Quickly, the redness caused by the sherry was reinforced by the one of a particularly pathetic brand of anger. “But—this—mine—but—you—can’t—this… This— is my place! And—and… you need me—you need a teacherrr!” she exclaimed in a childish manner.

 _None of that is true_ – Severus would argue, reaching for his wand for aid in being convincing. Instead, he allowed the silence to stretch, deciding not to put the boot in her.

A part of him demanded instant throwing her out, no matter the execution of that. His less brutal inner voice insisted on talking her into leaving willingly. He chose to listen to the latter. However, reasoning with a terribly sloshed ex-teacher was certainly not something he felt carved for. He was not planning to waste his own resources on her either. Besides, he wasn’t even sure he had any sobering potions on hand; it had been a few months since he last needed one.

Therefore, he concluded it was best to leave her for now, to let her sober up. Nobody came here either way and the woman already had her eyes half-closed. He would have to tip Pomfrey off on the occurrence and maybe she would find something for Sybill in her storage.

Perhaps Trelawney was thinking he was considering employing her again, one hell knew. Whatever it was, she did not look surprised to hear Severus say, a tad against himself, “Fine. You may stay for a couple of hours. Do not wander outside of the tower, however.”

“Oh! I knew it! Oh—I—thank you—thank you—“ she burst into tears again. They were ones of joy this time, he presumed.

 _Is your sight not telling you this does not mean you will get the position back?_ – Severus kept the remark to himself, not wanting to waste anymore of his breath on an _unseeing sot._ He left without another word, closing the door from the outside with a spell. Trelawney did not seem all too able (or willing) to cast any of hers at the moment, so this was likely to keep her from roaming away until she was any better.

\---

A few hours and a great deal of Poppy’s attention later, Trelawney was back to the land of the fully conscious, or at least conscious enough to be capable of holding a conversation. _Allegedly._

Pomfrey told Severus about “poor Sybill’s” bettering state after dinner. Having finished eating, he went to talk to her.

The stench of alcohol was still prevalent in the air of her lodge. Now it mixed nauseatingly with that of the food. It had been delivered by the elves, despite Severus’ mild disapproval. After all, that could be interpreted as an invitation for her to stay here for longer than absolutely necessary. At the same time, he did not disallow it – it was _the human thing to do._

Once he actually saw her, his hope of getting rid of her more effectively this time was diminished. Sybill’s face still looked as if the wine she had drunk had embedded itself into her skin. Eyes, restlessly jumping from one object to another, were so unseeing it was rather ironic.

Her gaze bogged upon him lethargically for a moment. When she managed to tear through the fog of her mind – _pathetically slowly,_ she promptly fell into an incoherent torrent of words.

Her monologue was laced with wild hand gestures. Soon, it caused her to stand up from the armchair, only to fall back into it a second later. The main envoy of her speech, as Severus understood it, was the harshness of the world out there towards a seer. This seer in particular considered herself terribly misunderstood. Finding out a whole lot more than he would want to, Severus strongly wished upon Trelawney that she would regret her deplorable outburst as much as he was now regretting having rejected Carrow’s offer.

Alecto, who had overheard Pomfrey speaking to him, instantly asked whether he’d like “the hag dragged away” by her and her brother. “It would be a pleasure—“ she added and that Severus did not doubt. He deemed agreeing to her proposition rather cruel, even if highly convenient. Therefore, now, despite personal discomfort, he was standing in the frowzy chamber of Sybill’s former tower.

Keeping as close to the entrance as he could, he was turning a deaf ear to all of Trelawney’s raving. He waited for her stream of _questionable_ consciousness to lose its fierceness. Only after she had drained out her topic, did he finally speak. “As I have already made clear – you will not return to your job.”

The light in her magnified eyes faded quickly. With growing irritation, Severus realised they began watering again. “But Severrus—Headmasterr—“ Sybill continued butchering the words with the mix of persistent drunkenness and intrinsic theatricality. “—as a forrmerr colleague… And I don’t mean it in such a way—“ She amended, perhaps upon seeing the annoyed frown forming on his forehead. “—Just that you know my abilities—“

_What abilities? One prophecy in a whole life of lying and refusing to put your other skills to good use?_

“—and divination is trruly an imporrrtant subject. Surrely, you arre awarre of that—“ she argued. Her heavy eyelids closed over the huge, bleak eyes. “—and I could rrreally be an asset worrrking in my field again—“ she pleaded, with a shadow of her completely unfounded pride. “—and the kids, especially those that possess the Sssight, they need guidance—“

In the first pause long enough for him to fit a sentence in, Severus interrupted again. “I said no. And no amount of teary soliloquising is going to change my decision. Perhaps you are right about the subject itself—“ he admitted, though hoping she would not remember most of this conversation later.

Although not an admirer of Divination as a branch himself, Severus did believe the students could use some wisdom concerning the fates from Firenze. Unfortunately, that professor was currently considered a mindless creature. Following the battle of Hogwarts, he disappeared into hiding, presumably on his own considering his relation to the herd. Unlike him, Trelawney had had nothing to offer in that area even before she went completely downhill.

Dumbledore had kept her around solely because of her contribution to giving him the tools to vanquish the Dark Lord with. _Or at least he had thought she had, at the time._ Now she was dead weight, at best.

“—But just look at yourself—” Severus therefore said, mercilessly.

Sybill’s face darkened with despondence. Her droopy eyelids fell, as if she was tired with the argument. For a moment, Severus was almost expecting her to do the logical thing and yield her case. Yet, it turned out to only be the matter of her slowed thought process. When she understood she had been offended, her eyes shot wide open again. “Wha—wha—what do you mean by that?!” she spluttered with outrage. “What is a drrrop of cherrrry—“

“Sherry—“ Severus corrected her callously before she could catch herself on that. “The simple fact that correctly naming what threw you seven sheets to the wind is outside your ability, should be evidence enough that so is teaching any children—“ he ranted. “—Or even being in the presence of the Hogwarts’ students.”

The hypocrisy of those words coming from him, scratched the surface of his self-awareness sharply. He had to counter it with equally firm reasoning. After all, at least he had never allowed himself to fall into a state this dire and pathetic. The forgery called potioneering had been a huge factor in that, but nevertheless.

Trelawney looked as if he’d hit her, either physically or with a cruse – shocked and hurt, but appeared to have resolved to keep silent.

“—As such, I will request that you leave the premises before eight o’clock. And this is my last word on the matter—” Severus concluded, voice as stern as his resolution was.

Inwardly, however, he made another promise to himself as well. He had neither planned nor foreseen it, and was sure that _neither did the damned sham._ It was the kind of promise he knew would be seconded by Remus.

Trelawney nodded resignedly, but with the anger still quirking the lip in her flaming face. Her fingers had twitched somewhere around her hips, as if to grab a bottle she usually hid in a pocket there. Perhaps to avoid further proving his point, she managed to curb that urge in his presence.

No sooner had Severus opened the door to make the exit he had longed for and leave the accursed fake seer alone, than she fainted.

In the corner of his vision, Sybill’s head fell limply to the side. He pointed his wand at her swiftly enough to prevent her from sliding onto the floor from the armchair.

Her neck then jerked oddly, lifting the skull up again. It brought to mind a string puppet, or worse yet, Inferi. Severus had little to time to assess what was going on before she shifted in her position, turning to him with an ominously blank expression. Her eyes were open now, but looked even blinder than earlier and the redness of her skin had paled ghostly.

Wand pointed at her even still, he deliberated casting Ennervate. The next second, as he had expected at this point – she spoke. Only it was most certainly not her own, screechy voice. He remembered this one from Hog’s Head, years ago. Deep and eerie, it echoed as if from beyond the Veil and through the realms.

The recollection of her other prophecy he had witnessed, was worse than a punch to his gut. Only pure self-control kept him focused on _her?_ (or perhaps – the souls’) words with due attention.

“The Dark Lord lives awaiting his enemies’ final decline... It is not those He expects to challenge Him who can threaten Him... Whom the Dark Lord will not suspect to, will raise a wand against Him before the year crowns... Only if a spell from that wand strikes Him, will He fall from His power… shall it miss, the Dark Lord will surmount forever... the clout of His rage falling upon who challenged Him and spreading through the world...”

As soon as she had finished delivering the message, her eyes closed again. Still unconscious, she slumped, this time deeper into the chair and without slipping from it. Now he felt even more sentenced to taking care of the sot (or at least ordering somebody he trusted to do so). No unsuited ears should potter around her, in case she would repeat any revelations of this sort.

The Prophecy, with its requirements and fake promise of hope was disturbing in itself, but the threat from Trelawney’s dubious gift was even more so.

It was distracting enough that at first Severus concentrated just on it, then – on the contents of her words. It took a moment until it occurred to him to check the _damned_ seer’s state. He was certain about not wanting to wake her up for now. However, her inebriation and already weakened state could have added to the strain of the spirit possession, resulting even in there being nothing at all to wake her from.

The pile of shawls covering Sybill’s chest hindered any efforts of evaluating whether shallows breaths were actually lifting it. He had taken three steps towards the armchair with the intention of approaching her to check on that, when a loud, whizzing snore filled the room.

 _Alive, then_ – Severus gauged, still with prominent hints of disgust. Cursing fate for the uselessness of the tools it had provided and the risks they brought, he silently sneaked out of the room.

\---

He barged into the Headmaster’s office so infuriated it reminded him of the times when Dumbledore still resided inside it. In the end, he took his frustration out on Albus himself.

“Was that why you told me ‘it would be more polite’ to keep Trelawney in the castle?! You knew she keeps giving predictions!” he barked accusingly into the chamber. It was spelled silent but for the one portrait, whose occupant was as quiet as if the charm had affected him as well.

Albus looked at him calmly. “Indeed, that was the reason. Although it was not a given she would actually continue to do so—“ he explained with a polite smile. “Did she make another one, then?”

 _What do you think?!_ – Severus mused, fuming, but forced himself not to speak. He realised he would rather first talk the matter over with Remus, if anyone. Dumbledore would treat the drunkard’s words both as the gods’ revelation and a set of hints, no matter who would be likely to die in the process.

Having added Dumbledore’s to the asleep portraits, Severus focused back on the documents on his desk. He had to write an answer to the Ministry’s inquiry as to what kind of enhanced defences the castle required, as a response to the current climate.

It was not until well past seven that he was done for the day and could finally go home. By that time, however, his will to share the news with Remus had dissipated, leaving few traces after itself. He still knew he had to do it, of course. However, the notion that it could be interpreted as either Draco or Lupin himself having to carry that burden, nearly terrified him.

 _Things did not end up all too well for the last Prophecy-bearer, did they?_ And, for whatever reason, Severus preferred those two alive.

He caught himself hyper-fixated on something entirely else – on the question Remus had only asked him once. Since then, he must have resolved never to bring up the matter again. Narcissa had never done that either; thus, Severus was fairly comfortable with and used to that approach. Now, to his own consternation, he was the one who felt the pressing need to speak about it.

Perhaps it was spite that caused it.

When he entered, Remus was seated at the kitchen table, leaning over the parchment and drawing (which he was no longer hiding with). He lifted his head from over his work and grinned brightly at him. Severus grimaced back, not too worried if it even seemed like a smile.

Lupin’s hand, previously patting the silvery curls, flew up, adding a small wave to the greeting. He looked rather relaxed, despite the looming Moon and anniversary of the Battle. Contrary to Severus, he could rest unbothered by anything else. Lately, Remus had become more lax with his spying on Hogwarts’ affairs, trusting he would always be told about them sooner or later. Thus, it was no surprise he hadn’t so much as noticed Trelawney on the Map yet.

Perhaps it was that the stars, or whatever else allegedly guided people’s fates, had aligned in a certain way. Severus wouldn’t know – the only Divination ‘expert’ around was passed out in her tower.

Perhaps it was that he sought Remus’ comforting on something, anything at that moment. Admitting that before himself pained him too much to think about it.

Or perhaps it was the realisation it had to be done sooner or later. As peculiar as that was, something in him insisted on telling Remus ( _Remus Lupin, of all people!_ ) about the one secret he had guarded even from Dumbledore.

It could also be a combination of all those reasons – he was not sure. Either way, when he re-entered the kitchen to make some tea, the words were pushed out of his throat. “You wanted to know why I prefer to keep my shirt on—“ he began, without superfluous preambles, pouring the boiled water into the teapot.

He had his eyes on the drink he was preparing, but the clank of coal against wood and the shuffling of paper betrayed Remus’ reaction. He had no doubt the man was now looking at him, eyes wide with attention.

Suddenly, Severus hesitated. _Wouldn’t I be an idiot to tell him this? To tell anyone this?_

Their ‘relationship’, if it had even earned that title, was already standing on the not-so-firm foundation of the lack of a future, shared fears and scarce possibilities of finding comfort but in one another. It did not seem wise to add pity and, possibly, disgust, to the mix. A mere mention of Trelawney would probably steer the conversation back onto clearer waters. At the same time, finding out if pity and disgust would truly be all that was left for him in another person’s eyes once he had told them, had its own allure.

“But it’s a long story.” Severus said finally. A part of him wished Remus would miraculously turn out to be busy with something.

“Good thing I have all the time in the world—” Remus assured him gently.

Severus glanced at him for a second, meeting the soft, almost encouraging smile and decided to check which of his theories was right.

“You remember 5th grade, correct? So – there was the four of you after the D.A.D.A. exam—“ he exerted all his might not to sound hateful, but he couldn’t, not when this was what he was recalling. “—And you know very well what you did, what the whole damned school could not stop laughing about until the end of term.”

“Mhm.” Remus grunted very quietly.

“—I was thrilled with the prospect of leaving Hogwarts, but my home has never been much better, as I believe you’ve inferred already.” Severus put Remus’ refilled cup on the table before him, but returned with his own to the kitchenette and continued, leaning against the counter. “And then – out of the blue – Lucius Malfoy invited me to the manor. Naturally, I agreed.”

Another soft “Hmm,” of acknowledgement came from the table. Severus was looking not at it and Remus, but through the window, onto the Hogwarts’ grounds. The plains and rises of them were bathed in navy and graphite, interspersed by the moonlight. He preferred to gauge Remus’ reaction to the whole of it, after he would be done _storytelling._ Yet, at the same time, he struggled to restrain his eyes from wandering.

“Shortly, I became Lucius’ ‘Dear Friend’. Still am, though currently he fucks the scribe of his, I believe.” Severus paused to sip his tea, contemplating whether Remus would notice if he transfigured it into whiskey.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus wince. It could be at Lucius, the implication, his wording or, perhaps, just a grimace of revulsion. There was no point in wondering. Even more forcefully now, Severus trained his gaze on the line of the Black Lake down below.

 _That tree, that fucking tree,_ right by the shore.

“—I certainly felt ‘dear’ at the manor—” he admitted with irony. “But, as it turned out, ‘dear’ meant Lucius has a thing for young… well, boys, mouldable according to his liking.” _Which, thankfully, surpasses his one towards men in their late thirties._

“He forced you.” Remus said with outrage, but in a whisper, as if trying not to startle him.

Wrong. “No. He did not.” Severus protested instantly. “I agreed to it.”

His eyes unwittingly darted to Remus’ face again. The expression he wore had hardened, telling Severus that he was barely stemming himself from arguing his point. Lupin rightfully resented Malfoy senior, mainly for his part in the genocidal policies. Any attempt to convince him the man was not all the way horrible, was doomed to failure.

Afraid if would only further aggravate Remus, Severus chose to leave the rest of his explanation unspoken. He made another pause under the pretence of drinking. _He asked me, that first time. ‘Do you want me, Severus’? –_ he recalled, barely suppressing a smirk. _He forgot to append ‘to fuck you’ at the end, based on the context and the outcome, but my mind astutely went to what closeness to him meant in general, back then._

“Either way—“ he said aloud, turning to pour himself more tea, because his throat was still peculiarly dry after draining his last cup. “Soon, Lucius’ birthday came and – of course – there was a ball, to which I was invited. There were numerous prominent families present. Blacks, Selwyns, Mulcibers – to name a few. Mulciber, the housemate of mine, saw me with Lucius.” Severus felt his lips twist into a crooked smile. “Not a tough feat, frankly. But without either of us noticing.”

Remus, as if slowly conjecturing what had not been mentioned yet, made a sound resembling a gasp.

“—He remained silent about it. At least until he realised the Dark Lord had heard of my spells and skills, and not his. Not that he ever had too many of either.” Severus scoffed. His grin only kept widening, but with the sight behind the window as the sole witness of that. A bright shape, probably of an owl, swooped through the darkness from the beech tree’s branch, rustling its crown into shakiness. “He was correct with his envy, because, in case I had too little going on for me that summer, it also sealed my fate of becoming an Eater.” Severus paused to take a gulp of his tea again and, in the otherwise silent room, heard Remus doing the same.

“—On the first occasion—“

He remembered the precise date, the 10th of September, Friday, during the break between Charms and Potions, when he and Mulciber ran into each other in their otherwise empty dormitory. Remus, however, didn’t need to hear it in that much detail. It could make his account either more concerning or less believable, neither of which was Severus’ wish.

“—he cornered me with his demands. I would ignore him, of course—“ he added, simultaneously asking himself why in Merlin’s name this was what he felt most ashamed for. “—But he came prepared. Brought his father’s Pensieve to school, for the purpose of making a show for others, if necessary. Truly, a strategic genius.” Severus ended on a sarcastic note.

Remus did not share his amusement. Although this time Severus managed to stop himself from surveying his face, he did not hear the slightest sign of dark amusement. In fact, the room had fallen so quiet he wasn’t even sure the man was still breathing. The same could be said about him, actually – the lump in his throat had swollen and was throttling him a tad.

 _Odd_ – Severus thought – _how hard it becomes with time to say something that has never been uttered before._ Still, he forced the words out without a note of those troubles creeping into his voice. “So, since then, for a few months, I was the cum rag of the least bloody tolerable Slytherin boy I knew—” he spat out, without letting himself think better of it.

There it was – said, admitted, inerasable.

“The rest hearing of it would be a lot worse, obviously—“ Severus went on, relentlessly now. He wished desperately for his self-appointed confession to be over already. His eyes were still fixed on the Lake, a few floors below. The beams of moonlight flickered and swivelled with the wind’s blows, reflected on the crumpled sheet of the water surface. “Especially considering what reputation I already had, courtesy of Potter. So I held my peace.”

“Oh God. I didn’t – I wouldn’t—“ Remus stuttered. Severus could visualise him forming the line of the connection in his head.

Now, he finally allowed his darting eyes to rest on Remus. Instantly, he found how needless that was. Remus’ voice had betrayed him explicitly. There was nothing more on his seamed face than had been tucked into its hoarseness. Neither shocked nor disgusted, he simply looked like a very beaten wolf. Guiltiness and remorse were almost substantial as they seeped from his downcast eyes. His chin, supported by the hand covering his mouth, was pressed onto it with a visibly increased weight.

Severus hadn’t aimed to make Lupin blame himself. Out of all the people involved, he had the best excuse – the fear of exclusion, as Severus knew now. Perhaps it was still weak and spineless of him to have succumbed to the pressure, _but at least **he** did not join a gang of murderers-to-be because of that. _

“If I ever knew—“ Remus began. He must have realised just as well as Severus that this sentence would end in “I wouldn’t do anything. I was too scared and, at times, exactly as unconcerned as the rest of my friends.” Deeming that direction not worth pursuing, he broke off.

“I told you, you had no idea—” Severus said, staring at him with what he could not be sure was a pardoning gaze. He deeply regretted approaching this conversation with neither his mental walls nor alcohol, but the potion had been spilled already.

Sensing that he was being observed now, Remus raised his, slightly glassy (but perhaps it was just the lighting), eyes to meet Severus’, wary ones. Remus’ were solemn, with the eyelids drooping slightly over them, as if from sudden tiredness. Filled with as much understanding as they could possibly hold, they sent the repeated, mute apology Severus’ way.

In words, try as he might, Remus wasn’t able to form any response more coherent than, “Oh fucking hell – Severus.” Which was fine, really – at least he did not sound too pitying.

“It ended when I returned from Easter break with the Mark and threatened to kill him.” Severus was set on providing the full picture, since he had chosen to paint it at all. His lips twisted again, neither accordingly nor against his own will. Frankly, he did not know how he felt about it all. This was probably the most he had dwelled on it in years. The only thing that made him somewhat glad to be doing it, was the promise Remus would finally, once and for all, stop suspecting his qualms could be connected to him being a werewolf.

“I have no idea why I never followed up on that promise, actually—“ he added amusedly, reaching behind to put his, already empty, cup away.

Again, Remus did not relish the sardonic joy of being able to joke about something of this sort.

“—The essence of it all, is that, what Lucius and Mulciber had in common, was how the upper part of the robes was always the first to go. Forgive me for not going into detail.” Severus shrugged, careful to seem as indifferent as he perceived himself as. Being thorough was one thing, being obscene, however, was a whole other. “Mulciber was who made me hate that. But Lucius, in all honesty, never managed to understand a simple request when it interfered with something he wanted either...” _Still has not, last time I checked._ “And I conveniently forgot to list the reasons to him—“ he finished with yet another acerbic grin.

Giving a heavy nod, Remus slowly stood up. A small smile, sympathetic, but _still not pitiful_ dawned on his face. It appeared gradually while he approached Severus, almost as if he was uncertain if he shouldn’t supress it. He stopped next to the counter Severus was leaning against, just short of their arms touching. “Can I hug you?” he asked.

Incredulous, Severus raised his brow. “I fail to see why you would want to just now. …But yes.”

Without another cue, Remus pulled him close to himself. He placed his chin on Severus’ shoulder, beard scratching against the thin strip of bare skin above his collar. As Severus noted with something akin to relief, he was undeniably not giving the impression of being repulsed by him. Inhumanly warm as usual, even through the thick fabric of Severus’ everyday robes, he was breathing steadily, ribcage rising against his own.

Severus returned the embrace. He did so stiffly as always, but, thankfully, Lupin never seemed to mind.

“What do you mean you can’t see why?” Remus now wondered. His head was still resting near the crook of Severus’ neck and the stubble on his moving jaw tickled him lightly. “Because it must have been hard for you to talk about it – thank you for telling me, while I’m at it – not to say… live through it. That’s why.” He answered his own question without leaving Severus time to interpret it as a non-rhetoric one. “And, in case that wasn’t the ‘why’ you were asking—“ his voice got even softer now, yet at the same time – more foursquare, “—in case nobody told you that—“

 _Does he think I go around telling people about it? And who? Dumbledore? Narcissa? The first one would not give a shit, the second – would be concerned, but mostly appalled._ The thoughts flicked through Severus’ mind, but he managed to contain his headlong irritation. It was just a figure of speech, after all.

“—it had nothing to do with you. By which I mean—what happened to you was not your fault and you didn’t deserve it to happen.”

 _An odd thing to say._ Deep inside, Severus rather disagreed – he earned all of it, later, anyhow. However, he liked the sound of Remus whispering like that, so he did not interrupt him, only pondered, silently, over how the werewolf was contradicting himself again. Severus was confident he could repeat those exact words in the context of Remus’ condition and then he would probably find a way to deny them.

They would fit the werewolf better, in his opinion. The two of them differed in one aspect of their monstrosities – in how Severus had chosen his.

No one cared when he chose.

He preferred blaming it all on that one summer in particular. That shut the guilt out, making life slightly more bearable. Still – it was a choice. It was plausible he would have made the same one even if none of those events had taken place. He had to exist without that knowledge. All he knew was that the current him had already chosen wrong once, but was continuously choosing differently almost ever since then.

As Remus liked to repeat – it was now that counted.

And now he had Remus’ sinewy arms wrapped around him, for the short while until Teddy decided to interrupt them by crying, sending the wands of them both trembling. Remus slid away quicker, but instead of running off to the kid immediately (understandably relaying on Frankie to already be there before either of them), he stopped for a second, just wordlessly locking eyes with him.

Severus did not consider himself an expert at reading emotions. Yet, he saw clearly that there was much more than pity amongst the self-illuminated amber.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The emotions from the confession were still raw in Remus, apparently more so than in Severus himself, judging by the (if barely trustworthy) proof of the even timbre of his voice. His swirling thoughts hadn’t even had time to settle before Severus was already recounting to him how he run into a spirit-filled Sybill Trelawney.

It was hard for Remus to focus on this topic now, when he had just received the confirmation to his worst speculations (and more than that, honestly).

Therefore, he asked Severus to postpone this discussion. The implications of the Prophecy and all the guessing about which of the possible three of them it applied to, would be better taken care of with a fresh mind. Currently, Remus only had the energy to curl into a foetal position, buried between his pillows.

_Why, in Morgana’s name, does everything always have to be so horrible?_

Just thinking of it all practically overturned his stomach. He found himself doubting whether Severus was as over it as he tried to present himself as. Although he recognised that as the trap Severus often fell into – of believing he knew better what was good for others better than they did, it was hard to adjust to that new knowledge without doing so.

Thankfully, Severus left him alone with his thoughts for a while. He took Teddy, who fiercely protested against being laid to sleep again, out for a walk. Remus thought he probably needed the moment alone even more than he did. Thus, whether accidentally or out of consideration, Remus was given enough time to deal with his “second-hand emotions”, as one of the books he’d recently stumbled upon called it.

Severus and Teddy returned accompanied by a faint, flowery scent. Without trouble, Remus connected it to the twig the child was clutching, covered in white blossom. It was a nice change of decoration from the snowdrops, which were still residing in the vase on the kitchen table – even more vernal than they were.

The kid had become less cranky now and so he and Severus pacified him without Frankie’s intervention. Then, deciding he had shaken off the initial unease enough to try talking about the “more pressing matters”, like Severus phrased it, Remus asked him about the Prophecy.

They both sat down on the bed, next to each other and Severus recounted to him the wording of Sybill’s prediction again. His attention to detail assured Remus that it was the most accurate account. Then, however, he said something that almost made Remus drop the book he had been paging through earlier, looking for the place his bookmark made of chocolate wrapping had fallen from.

“My stance is that we should ignore it.”

“What do you mean ‘ignore it’?” Remus asked, raising his brow at the very least halfway through his forehead.

“It is just a prophecy.” Severus stated, in the compelling tone that was not supposed to invite discussion.

It didn’t, however, discourage Remus and he argued, cushioning that slightly by putting his arm around Severus’ middle, “I don’t know... You seemed pretty convinced about working to make the last one happen – and so did Albus, of course.”

“I was not—“ Severus protested instantly, recoiling a bit, though clearly in abandon, not due to the touch itself. “I was solely following orders.”

“Then follow mine.” Remus replied with a playful smile, which he sincerely hoped Severus wouldn’t deem out of place this evening.

“Lupin!” Severus cut in with an admonishment, hand jolting from where it had rested on the covers.

“What?” Remus asked innocently, deciding to let the surname slide, since they were both joking. “You didn’t let me finish – I don’t mean like I’m suddenly going to do the planning – firstly, I am not Albus—“

Severus opened his mouth as if to interject again.

“Yes, I too think we probably shouldn’t involve him in that, at least not until we have an actual occasion to make some sort of a plan—“ Remus forestalled him.

“How about – at all.”

Wherever Severus’ respect for Dumbledore had dissipated into lately, Remus had to agree that Albus’ record concerning prophecies was not too impressive. “Okay,” he conceded. _We’ll talk about this later, if need be._

“—Still, as I was saying, I’m all for basically putting you in charge with interpreting this – as I am for figuring what we should do about Draco, you know, in what he was brooding about last time he was here. However, I think we have to maximize the chances of the prophecy fulfilling—“

For a second (Remus was quite sure he would have missed it if he blinked), Severus made a face as if his mouth was filled with unaltered Wolfsbane. His typical, a tad derisive smirk returned as fast as it had made way for that _expression of concern_.

“—so, I believe, whatever we’ll do, which we’ll apparently have to carry out this year, good thing we’ve been thinking about it already – I think all three of us definitely need to be present there.” Remus went on, undaunted by Severus’ rather warning gaze. “So that’s definitely an order—“ he said at the end, automatically putting his hand on his hip and thus hitting Severus in the ribs with his elbow. “I’m sorry.”

“Well you should be. That is a very idiotic order, general.” Severus’ crooked smile stretched a bit wider, igniting his eyes with a sparkle of amusement.

‘ _I want you and Draco safe, so I’d rather do it all myself, since the Prophecy leaves room for that’ –_ Remus interpreted. Honestly, he was getting better at this thing with each day. _That dictionary may come to exist one day, truly._

“Maybe—“ Remus responded aloud, “—though a general is a general, and there’s no discussing this. You can’t try to save people from things they consciously chose to risk.”

It was quite evidently a bingo, since Severus reddened slightly, staring at him with an odd mix of subdued offence and surprise. He collected himself soon enough. “Look who’s saying—“ he remarked softly, voice dripping with non-venomous irony.

“Well, I did concede eventually, didn’t I?” Remus shrugged, defensively.

“Last time I was hearing it was caused by me not giving you a choice—“

“Oh I’m pretty sure you were the one to say that—“ Remus noted, taking his hand into his. “You won’t, of course, be trying to join me again this Moon, will you?” he wondered, not entirely sure what answer he wanted to hear.

His doubts on that cleared away when Severus replied with “Well of course I will. I have not seen the whole collection of your works, I don’t think. And what is a critic without comprehensive insight if not a philistine?” and a wink. Again, his voice was laced with sarcasm.

If asked, Remus would say he kissed him mainly to wipe that bloody smirk off his face.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Headmaster’s office was covered with the shroud of a moonless night, only partly ebbing away before the gleam from the tip of his wand. Severus did not bother lighting up the whole chamber. That would be visible from outside the castle and one could never be too careful; particularly – while having guests like this.

When he opened the door, the figure by the desk, engulfed in the shadows, shuddered at first, startled. With a short delay, she started gliding in his direction.

As soon as she came closer, she lowered her hood, letting the light touch her face. Apart from the richly red lips, she looked as if she had just stumbled out of bed, the white nightgown giving her a slightly ghostly aura. She stopped about a foot from him and the pale shape of her hand reached out for his. 

“Narcissa.” Severus said, reciprocating the gesture.

Her fingers were freezing between his. Either she had gotten cold in the walls of the castle – or the Manor, earlier – or this was the fault of Remus having grasped Severus’ hand when he was showing him her appearance on the Map.

“How did you… How? How did you know? I thought I would summon the elf—“ she marvelled, perplexed visibly even in the twilight.

“No matter how. What brings you?”

The explanation came hurriedly. “I had to talk to you – and it could neither wait nor be done in anyone else’s presence. So I needed to sneak out, like a teenager…” She gave a quiet huff of laughter, packed with phoney mirth. “It’s about my son.”

 _Well of course… The brat, the goddamned brat._ He always knew involving Draco would mean trouble, but there was obviously no backing away now.

Severus had just won two (one hell knew when available for him to collect, but that wasn’t the point) galleons from Remus and, frankly, he probably should have made a similar bet with Draco himself. That, at least, gave the possibility of something pleasant coming to him from all this.

He had, therefore, expected this. Little could slip by Narcissa Malfoy in her own house and it was almost guaranteed she would seek help from him, of all people, no matter how much exactly she had deduced. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, hearing her actually say that, peeved Severus tremendously.

A part of him, a childish one _like Remus would call it_ , wanted to scream. He wanted to yell at her that he was not a nanny, nor was he a substitute father for the boy, especially considering the original one was very much flourishing.

However, he had never yelled at her in his life and wasn’t even sure he would be able to. The words would probably get stuck in his throat and throttle him, so that she could cast a charm to save him and smile patronizingly. “There’s nothing to be angry at, Severus—” she would have said gently and he, of course, would instantly agree. Therefore, he stamped down that foolish urge.

“What is it exactly?” he asked, feigning surprise.

Cissa looked around, as if searching for something and her eyes finally settled upon a chair.

“Forgive me for not inviting you to the chambers—” Severus provided, but before he had invented a convincing excuse, Narcissa interjected.

“Oh, no, no, it’s nothing, I understand. I probably disrupted your rest and, either way, I won’t be able to stay for long – Lucius could notice—“

Freeing his hand from hers, Severus gestured to the chair invitingly. Then, he summoned another seat, for himself, from the other side of the desk.

Without further prompting, Narcissa sat down – swooned almost, but somehow still landing on the velvety cushion gracefully. She combed her fingers through her hair, as if willing herself to seem less ruffled than she looked in Lucius’ overlarge cloak pulled over her nightdress. Finally, she began talking, her voice still melodiously demure, like the susurrus of a fox sneaking through the woods.

“I know he’s up to something, Severus. I just know. You will probably tell me I have no evidence – and I indeed have none—“ she admitted, locking her eyes with his, looking either for assurance in her surmise or the exact opposite of that.

Neither of those could he give her, currently only allowing himself to listen and analyse just how much she had conjectured.

“—But I am **his mother**!” she stated in a suddenly firmer tone, which fluently mellowed back into the former one. “I can feel that something is wrong, no matter how adept he’s gotten at hiding it… and I am terrified for him. You know how I tried to give him time – I thought that would help him heal, that it would let him return to his ways – our ways – to the Dark Lord’s ways—“

Although she still seemed composed, her hand found his instinctively and Severus squeezed it lightly while she continued. “—I – I did not tell you before, because I hoped I would never have to, but the reason I wanted to give him time, it was... There was an incident during the battle, Severus... Draco told me about it, I’m not even sure he remembers he did, he was in such a bad shape just after…” She licked her lips. “It concerns Potter—“ she said, in the tone of a judge announcing the gravest offence. “Potter saved him – and Draco… Draco seems to believe he owes him something for it... He—” she hesitated, gaze piercing him appraisingly for a second, before she dropped the sentence. “And so I apologise for not having told you before—“

 _Frankly, I am not surprised either of you have not, although he definitely had plenty of chances to do that_ – Severus kept to himself. Still, he was only letting her know he was listening by means of keeping his eyes trained on her face.

“—But you see how that could have affected him, for a while at least. He was – well, he is – just misguided, lost in interpreting the traditions he had been taught, in this case—“ Cissa broke off again, taking a deep breath, which made the loose folds of her nightshirt wave along with it. Her bottom lip quivered before she resumed speaking. “In this case a life debt... He even… he mentioned that should my sister have had the time to call him – that… that he would have lied to her. To save Potter’s life…”

Severus cautiously made himself look appalled and somewhat enraged by the vision she had just enrolled before him. Narcissa, in turn, played the role of a frightened mother just as aptly.

“—I think Draco believes, believed—“ she hastened to explain, blue eyes wide with contagious worry. “—I haven’t talked with him about it since – that he owes Potter a life and so, by proxy… that he owes it to his case, to the frail legacy of that would-be hero. Which is why I am afraid... I am afraid that the Mark will not accept him, Severus—“ she confessed, momentarily jumping to the distressed notes he remembered well from the last time she was preoccupied about her boy’s fate.

She hid her eyes behind the long lashes now, not opening them for a longer while, perhaps to stem the tears. Her fingers curled around his with the force of a vice, though one made of precious metals. The band, present on her ring finger even now that she was so blatantly betraying all it stood for, dug into his skin painfully, which Severus struggled to ignore.

Not carrying on with her account, she was just looking at him in quiet expectancy. It was upsetting and distracting to watch her neck move with each nervous swallow. Thus, Severus prompted, “Is that all?”

Still holding herself together, seemingly by the pure force of will, Cissa nodded. Her chin was trembling ever so slightly and Severus suspected the tears she was now fending weren’t the only ones she had cried on the matter.

Although she came to plead (that much was growingly flagrant), he knew she would refrain from stating that until asked politely. _There is an etiquette to begging._ – Severus noted cynically, if only to let his mind drift away from what haunted it. “So… You believe your boy could be a traitor to the Dark Lord and you come to me for assistance?” he asked coldly.

This time, Narcissa failed to restrain her emotions and the tears began rolling down her cheeks in steady little streams.

Severus was unsure how he felt about that. There was a terrible, vindictive satisfaction inside him, born from the awareness that he was the direct cause of her weeping. Then, there was also whatever made him produce from his pocket a handkerchief, which Cissa accepted with an odd mix of hurt and gratitude in her gaze.

Once she had wiped most of the tears flooding her face, now changing its hue from ivory to rose pink, he cupped both her hands in his. “Calm down—” he said only once before resigning himself to patiently waiting for her to do so. Inwardly, he regretted not having brought wine into the office with him.

When she managed to partly curb the force of her pre-emptive despair, Narcissa went on. “I—I… know what I’m asking for… I know perfectly well that it is too much to ask... That the risk, the risk you’re already sharing from me having told you this… That you—“ Her voice was aquake now, interspersed with sobs, and her hands were shaking, caged safely between his fingers. “—Severus… that you’re not a traitor to the cause, that it’s me who should bear this on my shoulders alone…”

Watching her cry felt similar to spilling drops of the golden healing potion on oneself. It brought a searing pain, followed by a peculiar joy, which was then promptly clouded by the return of the burning.

“Cissa, please.” He attempted to assuage her again. In vain.

“—that… that this is no concern of yours… and you have already done so much—and that...” She abandoned her thought again, giving the impression of having used up all the breath she had. Her chest was lifting rapidly and with effort as she leaned towards him over the chair’s armrests.

“…But I need you, Severus—“

He had never once heard that sentence without a follow up and this, it seemed, was not going to be the first time either.

“—I need you to save him, whatever that takes – I am more than willing to sacrifice myself for it. And I would not dare ask you if I saw any other option… Yet, you know as well as I do, there’s no bargaining with the Dark Lord...” Her voice was still strangled and uneven, hackly, as if corroded by the flow of tears running down her cheeks. Their tide was as relentless as she was in finishing what she had to say. “—It was a miracle He already gave him time – and now that the war has broken out... The situation is no less unstable than last spring... And He so clearly wants him to serve... I think Draco would be willing to do so, only the bond may read his convictions and he could even… if he would...” While the words got stuck in her throat once more, she slid her hand from his grip to tug at the sleeve of his robe, holding on for dear life, _as if I ever were it._

“He will not die—” Severus ensured her calmly. It was a promise, not a correction to her frightened predictions.

Narcissa looked at him, an ocean of gratefulness in her watery gaze, interrupted with fast blinks.

“But what about you?” he added tersely, in nothing more than a whisper.

The answer was more than obvious; it always had been. By asking her that, he was risking Cissa would infer more than was advisable for her to know, but the part of the fool in this play would not fill itself on its own.

Narcissa’s eyes met his again, delving into them with the sharpness of icicles. “You know I have my side chosen for me—“ she said flatly. “I cannot just leave it—“

“Him. You **will not** just leave **him** —” Severus rectified. He bolted up, uncertain what for and why exactly – perhaps out of irrational anger.

She mirrored that. Now she stood with her hand curled tightly around his arm, seeking support when she rose on tiptoe, as if to kiss him.

Severus stared at her with something akin to scold and put a hand between them.

As far as he was concerned, this would be another in the multitude of silent promises they shared. For once, for both of them it was actually a choice. He aimed to choose well. Narcissa gave the impression of having understood that. She lowered herself back to her usual height again and covered up her embarrassment with a sad smile.

“Do you want me to vow?” Severus asked, regaining his composure.

She shook her head firmly, sending waves of glistening hair flying round. “We don’t have a third. It would endanger Draco even more if he were one… in the nearest summoning… Besides – I know I can trust you.”

Perhaps for the first time since he met her, that affect was not reciprocated. He wanted her to vow. If the Dark Lord, or even Lucius, found out in any sort of manner, a lot more would be lost than one life.

“As touching as that is, Cissa, we do have a third. If you believe yourself to be the only woman crying her eyes out for Draco, then I am afraid I have to shatter that delusion.” _Well, the other one did not cry, to be exact, unless we mean the shouting at Draco…_

An indrawn breath tautened her chest so that it touched his. “Astoria?”

“Obviously.” Severus replied, cursing the fact that this was the safest option. It was either the open-minded girl or Remus, so one could simply say there was no alternative. “Tomorrow, eleven o’clock, here. And I would rather you had an alibi—” he commanded at the end.

Narcissa took the cue for what it was. “Of course. That much goes without saying with my practice.” She mustered a shadow of her playful smile. “I will see you tomorrow then—“ she said as a goodbye, her hand sliding tenderly down from his sleeve.

As she headed to the desk, Severus realised this was farewell.

With all the current events, he was likely to have died before the next time they could see each other, not counting tomorrow, when they would have company. Cissa’s hand bogged in the suddenly heavy air, just above the Portkey. She turned to him again, as if thinking the same thing. Her cherry-coloured lips had parted to let the words out.

Not wanting to torture himself with the sight of her anymore, Severus put out the light from his wand with a nonverbal spell. The faint popping sound resonating through the office told him she had just disappeared without him having properly bid her goodbye.

He tasted bitter regret on his tongue. However, what would have been the point of kissing her goodbye, if he already knew she would taste of salted cherries, dissemblance and being stuck on the losing side?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I am onto writing something that does not involve evil Lucius. Namely - a fic already in progress, called _"Waves"_. So, in case evil Lucius bothers you, look out for the Great Dad and Friend Lucius, sooner or later.  
>  In other news: I'll try to have the next update in a week, but I'm not 100% sure that'll work out.  
>  Also, cause I'm in the mood for rambling - here's a (positive) song I'm currently obsessed with, to brighten the mood - "Let me down easy" by Gang of Youths; can relate to the two idiots here and to many other pairings (e.g. Les Miserables, or so I've heard). 


	22. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning:** violence, pain. Also - the sexual abuse from the last chapter is (briefly and quite indirectly) referenced; more precisely - Severus' 'qualm' is addressed. 
> 
> I sort of feel like I'm updating faster than I should or something (in terms of you all having the time to read it), but I gotta. 

Even utmost subtlety could not escape the notice of someone who was searching for signs of a change. Remus had no idea he had been giving any, until one morning, when Severus gave him the most accusatory glare he ever did (and that was saying something!).

“You pity me. You feel sorry for me because of what I told you, admit it—“ he demanded over his coffee.

“No.” Remus replied instantly, uncertain whether it was a white lie or any sort of untruth.

Severus’ stare did not budge. When he wanted to, he could stop himself from blinking for a solid minute or two. His onyx eyes made Remus uneasy, their stare following him while he turned to take a bunch of grapes out of the ‘fridge’.

“—I, well, actually…” he corrected himself, returning to his seat and meeting Severus’ stare again. “…I think I do feel sorry for you, that’s a human thing. It’s not pity though. Not in the way you say it, definitely.”

Severus grimaced in the unmistakable ‘I was right, though I wish I hadn’t been’ way, so Remus rushed to explain. “Really – those two things don’t always equal. I mean – do **you** pity me, when you’re careful with the scars? Or when you work on Wolfsbane?” He only asked, because as surreal as that felt to him personally, he knew the answer would be ‘no’.

Severus didn’t say it aloud. Yet, he had stopped craning his neck to send him scolding looks and did not edge away when Remus laid his head on his shoulder.

It was good to have someone who appreciated to power of eloquent silence. Like then, or on Dora’s birthday, or later, on the Battle’s anniversary – the date of so many deaths – they both had never had a problem with it.

Since that exchange, Remus was cautious to ‘act normal’. The problem, however, was that he was convinced he had been doing so in the first place.

It wasn’t long until, in an effort to make Severus feel better in that aspect, one night Remus stupidly chanced, “Would you ever, like – in a neutral context of course—“ he felt the need to specify, considering he was then lying in the partial dark with his head on Severus’ shoulder. “—let me touch your chest?”

He was lucky to have the small orb of light still hovering over them. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have caught the way Severus’ jaw tensed upon those words. Looking up, he saw only the typical deadpan on his face, relaxed now again and without a hint of the fear that had stiffened it for a second. “I’m sorry. Forget it. It was very dumb of me to ask—“ Remus amended.

Severus met his gaze with half-shut eyes. “It wasn’t. For a change—” he said, cracking a smirk.

This must have been a lie. “No, no – really. I have no idea what possessed me to even suggest that.” Remus continued excusing his terrible par.

Severus jerked his arm from underneath him, leaving him to fall into the pillows. “Now will you stop treating me like a fucking piece of porcelain, Lupin—“ he wondered, propping himself up, the challenge clear in his tone. “—Or do I have to remind you I am not it…“

Suddenly, Remus was caged with Severus above himself. He didn’t mind that one bit, but he did still had his previous concerns. “Weren’t you tired?” he reminded innocently.

“Not when there’s an argument to be won.” Severus said, his breath running softly through Remus’ skin.

“Appare—“ Remus didn’t manage to finish, shut up by Severus’ toothpaste-tasting lips on his.

“Okay… I give in—“ he conceded a tad huskily, once Severus went on to kissing his neck. “You – you really don’t have to prove your point now, especially not if you’re waking up hell knows how early to brew Wolfsbane.” His sentence mingled with the sigh-like sound escaping him and he had to stop speaking until he caught his breath fully again. “—And you don’t have to call me Lupin either…”

Severus shifted to look at him again, dark lashes obscuring the no doubt glistening eyes. “But perhaps I want to—“ he replied in a suggestive whisper. This time Remus helped him in leaning down, pulling him in by his nape.

When, after a while, Severus lifted himself back up, in the end making the decision to _‘just’_ lie back next to him, Remus returned to the topic. “Okay… so I promise I won’t treat you like you’re fragile. I really don’t think I have ever been, though I know you feel that way—that’s probably why I had the foolish idea from earlier come to me at all…”

“I told you it was not completely senseless.” Severus repeated himself, running his fingers through his hair. His touch was delightfully cool when they climbed down Remus’ neck. “And I don’t make a habit of lying to you about your occasional idiocy.”

“Okay then, this is a yes, I suppose?” Remus asked just to be on the safe side, _if there even is one, in this context._

Severus gave a loud exhale. “Yes. Do you wish me to sign something on it?” His voice was lined with silk and sarcasm.

“No, I guess we can do without that.” Remus leaned against the touch, as Severus’ hand travelled to his back again, squeezing the muscles of his shoulders. “Though I’d like you to promise me something—“ he added, reaching to Severus shadow-framed face.

“Fine.” Severus’ chin moved underneath his fingers. “What is it?”

“That you’d go to a mental mediwitch once this is over? That is, if we live, of course.”

The strokes against his skin ceased instantly. “What for?”

“For talking through the hells you’ve survived? It’s like a fairly normal thing, you know? My muggle cousin was doing it, for example, so it’s not like I’m suggesting there’s something wrong…”

Severus pouted sceptically. Nevertheless, he resumed massaging his nape while Remus spoke on.

“It’s not even about **that** , I don’t think you’d have to talk that through if you don’t want to – but war, and Albus, and all that... I’d go too, if I’ll have the money for it... We can go together actually. I mean – not as a couple...” Another sudden absence of touch made Remus correct himself quickly, “—I mean – we’ll be a couple still, of course, but I feel like this would be much better done on one’s own…”

The stunned, motionless sculpture of a man, which Severus had just become, blinked fervently, as if to flick some kind of a speck out from his eye.

This time Remus was the one to ask, “What is it?” He, however, was more solicitous than belligerent in it.

Severus shook his head stiffly, still gaping at him. “Nothing.”

Remus looked at him curiously, grazing his cheek. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t… or aren’t – a couple, did you? I mean, if you don’t, like, well, if you don’t agree with the term—” he stumbled upon words.

 _Yeah, what if it’s that?_ Severus was loyal, but not necessarily the long-time commitment type of person. Maybe that was the thing he had a problem with here, either as a concept or towards Remus, personally. Maybe Remus had made the wrong assumption, committing to something that had never been called any name of its own, as he realised now, casting through his mind on that matter.

He must have let the uncertainty take control of his face, since Severus’ tone was quite reassuring when he said, “No. It’s not that.”

“Then it is something! Well, I caught you on it, I suppose.” His joy resurfacing, Remus let a smile onto his face. “If it’s not that… I mean, I’m not sure what you’re up to with Narcissa—“… _although you sure sounded like you’ve buried her, the last time you spoke of her. And I can’t really say I minded that…_ “Though apart from that, I don’t see the problem. I mean, what are the chances anyways, but it feels nice to dream of a future, doesn’t it?”

Severus was still looking at him askance, as if wary whether he was being trifled with. Suddenly, his reasons for that dawned on Remus with the force of lighting. “You thought I’d flee the second those doors were open, didn’t you?”

The black brow twitched suddenly, betraying Severus’ agreement. He really was on a low guard now, letting himself show unconscious gestures of this sort. Remus was quite proud of having enough of his trust for that. He also wanted, of course, to allay his unfounded suspicion. “And what kind of foolishness is that?” he asked jokingly, rolling to his side. He landed with his arm draped across Severus’ chest – the bone-riddled initial subject of their discussion, hidden under the soft nightshirt.

There was no response other than the return of the tousling through his hair, as soon as Remus had stopped shifting on the bed.

“—Do you think—“ He was staring at Severus’ face in the hopes of reading the answer from it and noticed the doe-in-the-headlight’s stillness had paralysed his features. “—I only want you because I have nobody e—Oh fuck, you do, don’t you?”

_Merlin, you’re such a fool._

Severus shook his head again, in yet another surprisingly inept attempt at lying to him.

“—As a matter of fact, I want you because I want you, not because I don’t have options.” Remus brushed away a lock of hair, which had fallen onto Severus’ forehead with the abrupt movement. “I mean sure, that we’re locked in played a part – you would’ve never in your life had let me close enough for me to know you, much less honestly like you… As opposed to being impressed with a note of intimidation.” Remus smiled, stuffing his grin with affection. He was relieved to see a similar, if a bit more subdued, expression appear on Severus’ face. “Either way – please don’t insinuate that I don’t have standards—” he concluded on a bright note. This, however, wasn’t entirely true – he had never had any. He had never needed them; usually the word ‘werewolf’ weeded out not just ‘most’, but all of the potential candidates.

 _And yet not those few. Not him, somehow… –_ Remus thought with his ever-present incredulity. The wisp from before escaped from behind Severus’ ear again, landing on his cheek like an oddly regular, black scar. Remus tucked it back into its place once more.

Severus’ eyebrow quirked, though this time in a whole other expression – an ironic one. “Well, have you, perhaps, seen me, Remus? Either you do not, or you have lowered them considerably for my sake—“ he quipped, hand motioning to his face.

“Let’s say I can settle for what I’ve got—” Remus retorted, leaning in further to kiss the tip of his nose. Scarlet suffused Severus’ skin quickly. “Honestly though—“ Remus went on, lifting his head just enough to see him squint, though still keeping most of his weight resting on Severus. “—you meet any standards I could possibly have. You really do. I occasionally wish for you to combust in flames, yes, but that doesn’t change a thing.”

“Vice versa.” Severus replied in a tone that suggested this was as far as his declarations of affection would go. “Now be so kind and remove yourself from my side, because I have to get up—“ he added, already placing his hand on Remus’ shoulder as if to shove him away.

Moving aside, Remus gave a grimace of discontent. “And that, for example, is a combustion point.”

“Oh is it, Lupin—“ Severus teased, sliding to the verge of the bed. He was swift in that, though not enough to avoid being hit with a pillow Remus threw his way. His lips twisted in something like an amused scowl. "Really, Lupin? What are you, a six year old?” he wondered, cocking a brow.

As Severus leaned down to collect the fallen pillow, Remus grabbed his wand and turned off the light from the orb. “Well thank you very much for a definite answer—” he heard in the sudden darkness, definitely more impenetrable to Severus than it was to him.

“I told you not to call me Lupin, Snape. Not my fault you can’t listen.” Remus responded, voice shaking with a repressed snicker. That betrayed his position and the pillow flew back, hitting him on the arm. “Oi!” Remus exclaimed, with yet another cheerful snort.

Severus must have left his wand in the bed, because instead of using it to light his path to the bathroom, he knocked into the frame of the four-poster.

While Severus cursed under his breath, the pillow he had so ungently put back onto the bed crashed into his shoulder. Remus kept his quiet for a moment, relaying on his worse sight. Only when the returning projectile missed him, did he stop quelling his insensitive joy and burst out laughing.

“We will get even once I’m back and have my wand, I swear.” Severus threatened, sounding like he too had a hard time staying serious while speaking.

Remus gathered the pillows and slumped back against them, smiling into the darkness. He readied for what could turn out to be a pillow battle with excessive amounts of needless transfiguration and conjuration.

However, it never hurt to practice spells, not even in the most childish of ways. _Especially if it’s a fun one_.

It was during that pillow fight, that Remus discovered Severus was extremely ticklish (and made a mental note for it for the carrying-out of his promise).

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although the concept of pride was still foreign to Teddy, the one of joy wasn’t. Thus, whenever he achieved something new, Teddy was very happy.

In some cases, like when he learned to steer the broom so that it was easier for him to catch Aja, not everybody shared his enthusiasm.

The crow definitely didn’t, but Teddy just couldn’t help it; and lately he saw Aja so rarely, that he just had to try to hug him every time there was a chance to do so. Neither did Someone, because she had to run after Teddy to keep him from falling off the broom. Dad wasn’t overjoyed either, especially when Teddy once managed to get really high on the broom, almost above the highest cabinets in the eating-room.

“Edward will either break his neck or grow up to be a seeker. And, frankly, I have no idea which is worse—” Hawk judged grimly. That, on the other hand, did make Dad joyful, causing him to laugh.

At other times, however, Teddy’s happiness alone swept over everyone around him – like that time he learnt a new word from Dragon Boy’s book.

Dragon Boy was rarely visiting now that there was no ‘break’, how he called it. Teddy didn’t see him any more often than he did Aja. Whenever Dragon Boy did visit, however, he went straight to the home, not just Hawk’s writing room. He never forgot to come to Teddy too.

Once, he came when Teddy was in the eating-room with Dad and Someone. Hawk had to disappear for a moment, so they couldn’t start talking about ‘important matters’ just yet and Dad excused himself to the bathroom. Left almost-alone with the Boy, Teddy tried to show him that he was glad to see him. Yet, although he had recently gotten better at saying things out loud, he found out that Dragon Boy had lost some of his ability to understand him.

He did understand, however, when Teddy told him, “Ai awl”, pointing to the little book Someone was putting into the toy box. Dad had just read that book to him (once again, because Teddy loved it very much, even though the owl on the cover was different from his plush one).

“Owl, huh?” Dragon Boy asked him with interest. “Any other birds there?” he wondered, taking the book from Someone’s hands. He paged through it very quickly, making Teddy laugh at the flutter of cards and the wings of the moving birds inside. “Well, I see. You do love birds, don’t you? I brought you one a little better, though…” The boy pulled a brown tome out of his pocket.

It looked big and complicated. However, there was a tall, weird bird with long legs on the front and when Teddy tried to touch it, it run away instead of just flying, so he was instantly captivated.

“This is an atlas. A bird atlas.” Dragon Boy explained. “It has all the birds in it, with their names and drawings and a bit of knowledge too, though I’m sure that for that part you’re a bit too young yet.”

Dragon Boy helped him open the atlas, to the accompaniment of Someone’s chiding. “What is you doing Master Draco?! This is a Little One – a poor Little One, who should be being as far from books as he could be being! Especially books from—” she broke off suddenly and the Boy had to put a calming hand on her arm, which made her jerk away at first.

“Oh come on, Frankie – first off – this is a fun book—” he then argued with her, smiling brightly. “Secondly – he’s living with godda—well, with professors. He’ll be reading fluently before he can count to three, I’ll bet my finger on it. No matter what you do. And I read as a kid, didn’t I – and look—“

Finally, Someone surrendered. She started collecting the other toys to move them to Teddy’s little room, where they both were staying in each time Dragon Boy visited. Then, she left the eating-room, having instructed the Boy to “take care of the Little One”.

He did so by showing Teddy the book.

It was a very interesting one, indeed, with many birds in it. Some of them Teddy knew of already; others – he had no idea existed. The Boy told him the book came from the Big House and taught him how to make it speak. When Teddy touched the big zigzags at the top of a page (Dragon Boy called those ‘titles’), it made a sound. “It reads the name of the bird for you—“ the Boy told him.

Amongst the pictures he saw, Teddy was particularly fascinated by those of the birds he recognised. Unluckily, he couldn’t quite name most of them out loud (or at least – in a way that made sense to anyone but him). Now that he had ensured not even Dragon Boy could understand him without words anymore, it seemed more important than ever to learn. After all, he had to, for example, be able to correctly name the bird he currently wanted to hug, so that somebody could give it to him. Therefore, he kept making the book repeat itself over and over again before letting Dragon Boy flick the page to another. Judging by his nice laugh, the Boy found that amusing. Teddy giggled along with him, all the while making the magical voice join in with its “Stork-stork-stork”, “Crow-crow-crow” and so on.

Teddy was sure he hadn’t seen most of the birds in the huge book before Dad had come back. Noticing what he and the Boy were looking at, he became unexpectedly displeased. “Draco, what on Earth is this?” he asked, in a very calm tone, but Teddy already knew he didn’t like something about it.

Dragon Boy was surprised too, but he explained himself best as he could. It seemed that quite like Teddy, he didn’t know what the problem was. “—nature or not—and I absolutely don’t mind him observing nature, you’ve seen what hangs here—this is a bird of prey and he’s a one year old. Come on Draco, the illustration with the mouse you had it open at?”

In the end, Dragon Boy had to close the book and swear to Dad that he wouldn’t go around showing it to Teddy anymore. “Not when he’s so little at least, okay?” Yet, what Teddy had already seen (and heard) from it, was his.

He flaunted that new knowledge very soon – when the door to the many-smells-room opened, revealing Hawk.

“Hawk – hawk—“ Teddy greeted him, walking towards the entrance. He was very happy that he could say it properly now, having heard it from the Atlas a few times in a row.

Dragon Boy started laughing and Hawk sent him a fierce look. It made him resemble the hawk from the illustration even more, thus causing Teddy to repeat the name once again, just like the magical voice would.

“What a lovely nickname you’ve got yourself there.” Dad said to Hawk, fighting a snicker. “Teddy has a way with words already, doesn’t he?”

Teddy didn’t really understand what Dad meant, but Hawk grimaced at him funnily and with his brows lowered. Then, he suddenly lifted Teddy up, saying, to Dragon Boy, “Why do I feel like this is your doing, Draco?”

“No idea, professor. I think it was the book that’s to blame for everything. You can ask either Remus or Frankie.” Dragon Boy answered him seriously before bursting into giggles once again.

Even Hawk let out a huff of laughter. Teddy liked all that joy very much; especially considering that lately he could feel there was something very grave going on.

That something, which both Dad and Hawk – and even Dragon Boy – seemed plagued by, was a mystery to Teddy. He thought he’d heard the word ‘war’ mentioned every now and then, but it had little meaning to him. It only brought a very faint, foggy recollection of voices shouting over him, he didn’t know when exactly.

Despite ‘war’, whatever it was, there still were many moments that made Teddy happy. Another of those, too connected with Dragon Boy and with birds, was when the Boy came to show them all something he had learnt to do with his magic stick.

“That is completely unnecessary.” Hawk reckoned, but it did not daunt the Boy.

“Maybe. But I want to prove I can now and, besides, I’m certain Teddy will find it very amusing—“ he answered. Next, he drew his magic stick and exclaimed something Teddy recognised as magic words.

Soon, Teddy had to agree with his last sentence.

The Boy flourished the stick and a great, silver shape appeared from the mist-thingy at its tip. Swiftly, it transformed into a bird. It looked like a peacock, but less like Teddy’s plush one and more like the illustration of it in the Atlas or Dad’s drawing of it, though not with black lines around. Teddy tried to catch it, but it ran away from him gracefully, spreading its great tail like the ones in the Big House sometimes did.

Teddy gaped at it with awe until it disappeared and couldn’t stop thinking about it even a long time later, when with Frankie in his room. He dreamt of a silvery bird that night and spent the next morning trying to grab Dad’s wand and saying “Ber—ber—“, trying to summon a bird the way Dragon Boy did.

Dad ignored his pleading. “I cannot make a bird appear, Teddy.” Dad told him, firmly though in an oddly sad voice. “Not a Patronus one, anyways. Mine is a lot less fun, truly.”

Later, Teddy asked Hawk too. He refused even more sternly, snatching his wand from Teddy’s reach instantly and looking at him warningly. “Leave it, kid. Draco is the only one of us whose Patronus is some overgrown peachick, I assure you.”

“Oh right – of us.” Dad seized upon his words. “Yes, well, you see, Teddy, neither of us is fine enough to see happiness incarnated, I’m afraid.”

It only took a short while of fiddling with the magic stick between his fingers before Hawk suddenly took Dad’s hand in his. “Fine. I’ll do it. If you do.”

“Really?” Dad marvelled, leaning to Teddy, sitting in Hawk’s lap. His sweet-thing-coloured eyes became wide, but slightly darker as he thought something over before asking, “How do you feel, Teddy, about seeing two Patronuses? Not birds.”

“Ot?” Teddy asked, smiling, but already a bit disappointed.

“Not.” He got the confirmation. “Though it might still be fun to see them—“ Dad assured him, clearly just having changed his mind on the fun-part.

A moment later, two silvery shapes jumped into the room at the same time. One was from Dad’s, the other – from Hawk’s magic stick. They both looked like dogs, so at first Teddy had recoiled a little, remembering the ones from the Big House. These, however, were a lot nicer.

From his post, now in Someone’s arms, Teddy observed them, as they ran around. One of them was thinner than the other, but both were fluffy-looking despite the lack of actual fur. They circled the room vigorously, almost brushing against Teddy’s outstretched fingers.

Hypnotised with the dog-like things, Teddy barely registered Hawk and Dad speaking over his head. He only heard the soft, smacking sound, the one he associated with dad kissing him on the forehead.

No matter their exact shape, the lights turned out to always be equally fascinating. It wasn’t just him either – Someone too looked impressed as they trotted past them, pretty and silvery. Honestly, Teddy had even stopped missing the birds; especially considering that then, with the magic animals in front of him still, Dad suddenly took him out of Someone’s arms and pulled both him and Hawk into a hug.

Then, Someone saw Dad jokingly beckon her to join them and pouted, making Teddy laugh out loud.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco had the tendency to treat his (perceived) failures harshly. His project worked – he did create a mixture that soften the Dementors’ impact on a person. Yet, since it wasn’t as reliable or long-lasting as the boy had wanted it to be, he thought it a flop and a disgrace. Fortunately, Remus managed to convince both him and Severus to send it to the rebels for a little inter-country brainstorming. A very intimidated crow, who’d just heard from his master that he would become Thestrals’ dinner if the letter was intercepted, carried the message through.

Severus himself seemed quite offended by not being Draco’s only consultant on the matter, though truth was he could barely spare the time for a single trial of the potion, not to mention further experimenting. “It is rather insulting he would even consider taking advice from the spoiled old coot—“ as he said it, bitterly. Slughorn, it turned out, either wasn’t keeping in contact with Granger or was unable to help. However, the whole thing uncovered an unexpected talent.

Soon enough, an answer came, with words of thanks, as well as sentence on proposed improvements.

 _“According to L: an addition of Abraxan and unicorn hair in proportions 2:3 (or Unipeg’s hair, as some call it…) makes it more stable than unicorn alone. It does, indeed, we’ve tested it.”_ Hermione wrote, with her condescension towards Xeno’s daughter more than obvious in her wording.

Draco checked the prompt and discovered it was wrong. Purposefully so, it seemed – without an additional change in stirs, it created a light poison. Since all three of them could agree it mustn’t have been Hermione’s accidental omission, it seemed just like a sign of slight mistrust and a precaution in one. It could have even been that the rebels did not want to make it all too easy for them, suspecting (and if so – then correctly), anything they’d created would be passed on to the Death Eaters.

Remus doubted he’d ever seen Severus as proud. He had the impression, however, that Severus was almost more impressed by the mistrust that the inventiveness of his students. Although Remus didn’t fully share that contentment, he definitely saw that war-fuelled potioneering development as nothing short of a miracle. He also appreciated what Severus himself didn’t – that Draco hadn’t burdened him with that, as yet another thing he would lose sleep on. With all the pressure already upon him, it was better for Severus to focus on other recipes, very much disconnected from potions of any kind.

The second time Remus entered the kitchen to smell the unmistakable evidence of food being prepared in it, was on one Sunday in May. Severus was bustling around by the counters, the pale shapes of his lean hands flickering swiftly; otherwise, the room was empty.

“Good morning. Oh… Frankie’s out with Teddy… You’re cooking again?” Remus asked with a loud yawn, having slept very badly due to the approaching Moon.

“I’ll spare you the answer, Remus.” Severus said, measuredly cutting dough into pieces. “First batch will be ready in—“ He shot a glance at the clock above. “—about a quarter or so, if you are interested.”

“You know you can admit you’re doing that for me, right?” Remus suggested with a grin, walking into the kitchenette. He stopped next to Severus, as to look over his shoulder and catch a glimpse of him working.

“Who’s saying I am?” Severus turned to him abruptly, hair almost hitting Remus in the face and knife still in hand.

“I don’t know… The sheer amount of sugar here?” Remus bantered, tilting his head towards the jar with marmalade and wrapping his arm around Severus’ waist. “Unless you believe Teddy will be able to eat two batches of butteries…”

“You are aware that your pestering will not bring a single good thing the food, aren’t you?” Severus asked, half-heartedly attempting to shake his hands off himself.

“Oh I’m sure they’ll be fine.” Remus argued, taking his arm back, though solely to fix something he’d just been reminded of by Severus’ hair sliding off him when he shifted. “Stop moving for a moment—“ he told Severus, who had instantly returned to preparing the food, as if it was indeed a potion, where the timing was a critical ingredient.

“What—why—what are you doing Lup—“ Remus’ hand slipped a bit and he tugged at the wisp of hair he was holding. “—Remus—“ Severus amended, clutching the knife closer to himself, as if unsure what to do with it.

“You can put it back now.” Remus said, lifting his hands off his scalp for a moment to let him lean down.

Having straightened back up, Severus asked, “—But, Remus, why do I feel your fingers in my hair?”

“Should I spare you the answer?” Remus jibbed, interweaving the black strands skilfully. “—Because I’m braiding it, of course. I really don’t get why you never pull it back in the kitchen, when I know full well you do so in the lab.” He felt Severus catch himself in the middle of a shrug, abandoning the gesture for the sake of staying motionless.

“—I don’t know a braiding spell, sadly, so you’ll have to patiently suffer through it the muggle way. Lily—“ Severus twitched a tad, but then relaxed again. Lightsomely, Remus continued, “—tried to teach me charms for a typical French and Dutch once, but there was far too much elven wine involved for it to stick…”

“Patience or no, I do not have an eternity—“

“It’s almost over—“ Remus informed, twisting the next-to-last row of the plait. When he was finally done, he took a step back to admire his work. “Okay, nice, this is it – you may carry on cooking.”

“Oh thank you for that benevolent permission—” Severus jeered, turning on his heel again. _‘And for the braid.’_ – his small smile and slightly flushed cheeks added mutely. “Now is there anything else you have to linger here for?” he asked challengingly, biting his lip.

“Just to say that you look nice in a plait—“ Remus replied kindly, kissing him on the lips before he had the time to get back to the butteries. “—and also to make myself tea.”

“If it keeps you outside this kitchen, I will do that—“

“White it’ll be, then.” Remus agreed, taking a seat. “What’s the occasion this time, though? Because I take I shouldn’t get used to this—“ he appended, taking a whiff of the butter-scented air.

“Nothing much—“ Severus said, the timbre of his voice diving even deeper into irony. “Just the deaths of a few people.” He took the tray with the buns he had been rounding and put it on the counter, the furthest away from the window and the oven. “It seems that my – ‘comrades in arms’ – failed in an important operation against the muggles. Like complete imbeciles, so nothing’s new under the sun.”

“Was it the ‘Lucius will not spill a detail to me’ one?” Remus threw the question at Severus’ back.

“Yes. Fortunately, since it also clears me of possible charges.” Having set the kettle onto the stove, Severus went on to collecting the dirty bowls and silverware to start cleaning them. “Minerva’s callow chicks did not fail, apparently. And, frankly, neither did the muggles. Their prime minister broke out of the Imperio. Ours failed to realise—“

“—almost as if somebody had told him how to imitate the spell’s working?” Remus guessed.

“I suppose so. But, thankfully, it wasn’t as obvious as that. Those things happen every now and then—” he stated knowingly, over the clinking of dishes. “All in all, that resulted in a few of ours – well, of mine – getting ‘shot to pulp’, as Lucius descriptively called it. Eight, I would not say apt, but some important, Eaters are dead. In that – one who told my Lord about it—“ he said in a tone that somehow mixed fear and humour in equal proportions. “I received the news about two hours ago.”

Since Severus was speaking over his shoulder for the most part, Remus had had the chance to notice an unusually bright grin on his face, which he identified as a sincere one. “I have never seen you happier, I don’t think, and I’m a bit terrified by that—” he now said jokingly. “I’m not going to pass on the food, of course, but Eaters or no, if it’s just deaths we’re celebrating…”

The kettle had begun whistling and Severus put down the fire underneath it. Still holding the blade from before, he then halted before Remus’ stool outside the counter. “More or less terrified now?” he asked with feigned lack of understanding, brandishing the knife, then tossing it from one hand to another.

“I admire your safety guidelines, truly.” Remus met his twinkling eyes. “Though I’d rather you didn’t cut your hand off.”

“That’s not going to happen—” Severus assured him, throwing the knife up while walking back to the sink. It whirled in the air twice before landing back in his hand, handle first. “As for your other fear however—“ he paused, making Remus raise his brows questioningly even though Severus couldn’t see that anymore. “—It all comes down to how recruiting will be highly necessary, which means…” Severus broke off again and only after he’d turned off the tap did he finally finish the sentence. “—He will be present at the end of year feast. In Hogwarts. The Dark Lord in flesh.”

His words made exactly as much of an impact as he seemed to have expected.

“Oh my! Bloody hell—“ Remus exclaimed. “—Oh this changes a whole lot… We can’t rely on ours, I suppose – they’d have a hard time infiltrating… Though we, as for you and me… we’ve got it so much easier here. Nobody will expect to be struck in the safest possible place, from the inside… You could use the poisoning plan no matter the amount of people, right? Though then there’s the aspect of time… don’t you think it’s too soon?” he wondered, his enthusiasm slowly wearing off.

“Not for Draco, no.” Severus was cautiously levitating the dried dishes back into their cupboards. “Frankly, it is better than I could have wished. I doubt I would be able to help the boy run away without attracting the Dark Lord’s attention to myself – and this way everything will happen at once.”

Remus would usually argue that such an accumulation of events only amplified the risk of something going badly. This time, however, he deemed it too negative and skipped straight back to questions instead. “Are we involving anyone but ourselves?”

“No.” Severus replied almost hastily. “The less people involved, the smaller the chance—“

“Okay. Who’ll tell the professors what’s going on during? Some could help, though of course we’ve got to be careful with that…” Despite believing it was a little too early (in the morning) for that, Remus invited the cogitating.

Severus had an answer ready. “Draco. And he ought to head out afterwards.”

“But the Prophecy!”

“It is a ‘it will rain or it will not’ sort of Prophecy.” Severus admitted he hadn’t actually been convinced by Remus the last time they talked about it. “Do me a favour of not trusting it blindly. And I believe you have already expressed your belief in my ability to make it come true on my own, way back—” he reminded. The harsh look in his eyes made them look like a paradox of a chasm and a barrier in one.

 _This man and his stubborn, yet disarming will to be the only one who risks anything!_ Remus tapped his fingers on the tabletop.

“I’m not going to let you do that alone, Severus. Prophecy or no—“ he replied gently, though firmly. “We need to get Teddy out and keep Draco as safe as he’ll let us. I was actually thinking of giving him a part that’ll let him escape even if we two don’t, though of course it has to **seem** very important. Maybe one of getting the Hogwarts’ students away from the school? Or at least safely separated from the fray…” Remus paused to take a breath. While he licked his drying lips, regretting that his tea wasn’t ready yet, Severus nodded. “—And of course we’ll also have to tell him about your deal with Narcissa… Oh, don’t make that face at me. We do have to – it may make him more careful. And there are plenty of reasons I’m all for that – his life, of course, but I don’t want you in avoidable danger, just like I know you don’t want me—“ Remus went on, seeing Severus avert his gaze to pour the water into the teapot. “And I’ve already told you what I think about excluding Draco – it‘ll probably only lead to him doing something reckless on his own. It’s too late to exclude him completely anyways—“

“Not that he had ever given us that possibility.” Severus cut in, putting the ceramic lid on and grazing it absentmindedly.

“Exactly – but that’s only further proof it could be dangerous not to involve him. I know just as well as you do that he is a kid, still. However – we were his age when we fought in the first war – you were what, a year older than him, when you turned on V-Him?”

Severus looked at him darkly, as if to say ‘And how did that work out for us?’, but he remained silent, letting Remus finish.

“—Draco was able to lie to him so far, why would this be any different?”

“This will have more lives dependent on it than anything Draco has ever done in his life. Especially, if the bullshit prophecy is correct.” Severus’ tone remained as silky as usual, but something about the way he eyed Remus’ teacup as he filled it, made him glad it was the porcelain (and not him) the man was glaring at.

“You’re right… Though, he doesn’t need to know all this at once, does he? I’ll be telling him, not you.” Remus offered. “No offense, of course, but you aren’t exactly the type to avoid creating unnecessary pressure.”

“None taken. Just remember that the Dark Lord will not be inviting the boy for tea if he suspects something. So the ‘unnecessary pressure’ is not really that unnecessary.”

“I’ll remember. However – we can prevent him even having the chance to suspect… He doesn’t see Draco often, does he?” Remus nearly exclaimed, as a solution dawned on him. “When’s the next summoning then – do you think he’ll squeeze any before the pledges? Maybe we could tell Draco after it’s held…”

“If nothing is altered – in June.” Severus put the steaming teacup before him, the black-and-silver one that was Remus’ favourite. His expression had mellowed a bit already – a thoughtful frown took place of the annoyed one. “Yes… We could consider this. Perhaps we should—“ he went on until a loud pop interrupted him.

“Great morning.” Frankie greeted, appearing in the middle of the room with Teddy in her arms. “Master, sir Remus.” She wrinkled her nose a few times and then, with a studious expression on her face, declared, “Something’s being on fire.”

Teddy landed in Remus’ embrace and the elf left him to take the kid’s outwear off, herself running to the aid of the butteries. She jostled her way through to the stove with a barely polite “Excuse Frankie, master.” While chasing he Master out the kitchenette, she kept muttering something along the lines of “You is leaving nothing for Frankie to do, then you is getting what you is getting…” She did it so quietly, however, that Severus could mistake it for some kind of humming.

Shooed away, Severus took a seat next to Remus, so that he could observe Frankie’s frantic ministrations around the oven. “I told you not to pester me—“ he scolded, narrowing his eyes at Remus’ smile.

Teddy was now standing on the ground, attempting to grasp his coat off the chair. Making a grimace at him, Severus added, “Now they will be ruined and it is all Dad’s fault—“

“Nothing’s being ruined!” Frankie disagreed, flourishing the tray in front of her with energy that caused Remus to expect all the buns to slide down from it. They avoided that fate, somehow. She was right in her statement too – only two of them looked a bit burned, the rest painted a nice golden brown colour. “—But you is not continuing this, Frankie is. So that nothing gets ruined then.”

Severus’ wince only deepened upon that answer, causing Teddy to burst into soft giggles. “Uin-neee—ed—ed—ey—neee—” Teddy babbled in between them.

“See? Even he is telling you that.” Severus said triumphantly, the corner of his mouth lifting back up. “Right Teddy?”

“No.” The kid said, vigorously shaking his head. Then, he stumbled, grabbing a chair’s leg for support.

“At this point, honestly, I don’t know why you even bother.” Remus chuckled, drawing back the hand he’d just caught Teddy with. “Are you ever going to agree with Severus, Teddy, or not?” he cooed to the kid, grinning smugly.

Teddy smiled back at him, innocent blue eyes glimmering. “Ot—no—no—ewew—” he replied exactly the way Remus wanted him to.

“Edward, you little traitor—” Severus said softly.

“Takes after you in more than one aspect already.” Remus put down his cup, leaning towards Severus.

“Oh shut—“ Severus started to say, failing to finish his thought as Remus’ lips met his.

Deprived of their full attention for the shortest of moments, Teddy instantly sought a way to win it back, tugging at Remus’ robe. Before that made Remus actually change his focus, Severus had already pulled away. “Yes, little brat? You have to be involved?” he asked looking down, with a frown ill-fitted for his still quite bright expression.

Remus grinned seeing him lift Teddy onto his lap.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Trelawney, on the last day of her temporary presence on the Hogwarts’ grounds, told him she saw “the Grim for you, Severus, it’s the Grim!” he ignored her. Occasionally possessed or no, she was still a complete sham.

He started doubting that now.

In the corner of his vision, Macnair was lifting himself from the surface of the table. The poison, apparently, had failed to completely incapacitate him. This was a sign much worse than a thousand huge black dogs in teacups and, unlike those, Severus could easily read it – it meant something had gone horribly wrong.

He did not hesitate in striking Walden down, in a more definitive way this time – whatever it took to guarantee Draco a clear shot at the Dark Lord.

Draco didn’t miss. The emerald beam hit the tall figure of Voldemort, beating a similar one aimed at him by merely a second. Miraculously, Draco dodged the spell in the very last moment, but another followed just as quickly.

Severus screamed when the boy dropped to the ground, like all life had been sucked from him.

“Worry not, Severus—“ the Dark Lord replied to his thoughts, smiling grimly at the fainting light of an Avada Kedavra that missed Him. “The boy is not dead, because I would rather keep **you** alive until the end of the performance.”

With a frantic, stinging feeling in his chest, Severus realised other Eaters were slowly regaining their senses as well. Remus, still disguised amongst them, followed suit, playing his role of Avery more perfectly than Severus could possibly have expected him to.

Another green, gleaming projectile from Severus’ wand hit Voldemort, but He seemed to treat that as nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“Enough, now—” He ordered finally, after the third one. Severus lowered his wand minutely seeing as the Dark Lord did the same. “This is child’s play—” He assured his Eaters, waving a dismissive hand at them all.

The four figures who had stood up to help their Lord, settled back into their seats, ignoring the body lying between them, with its face in the pool of wine from a knocked-over goblet. Corban, who lingered standing the longest, sent Avery a meaningful, triumphant look. Severus did not glance again to see Remus’ reaction, too busy observing the Dark Lord’s movements to spare him more than one fearful thought.

God, how much he hoped against reason Remus would use his cover for the (ig) _noble_ cause of simply running away. He had the damned right to let himself survive, but, Severus was afraid, the only right Remus cared for was the ‘the right thing to do’.

The Dark Lord walked a few steps away from Snape now, taking a duelling stance. They bowed – Voldemort barely inclining his head with the gesture. Severus had his wand already aimed at Him and correctly so, because the first curse hit him while he was still stooping.

He had expected nothing less of the Dark Lord than a Crucio shot at an unseeing opponent. Good thing he had endured more than one in his life before. The agony, blinding him no more than fear did, did not bring him to the ground or stop him from retaliating.

With all the power he had in him, Severus jousted against his Master’s magic, fighting to remain standing. He surprised Him already, wand still in hand after the first few powerful spells aimed to change that. He twirled between the beams of light like in some grim variation of ballet. The Dark Lord’s pre-emptive complacency, twisting his inhuman face in a parody of a smile, began dissipating, as they both danced to the music of exploding stones, in the otherwise silent Hall.

Their public, made of the newly sworn Death Eaters and the old ones alike, all free of the proper effects of their respective poisons, was absorbing each of their movements with their breaths held. Severus could be sure of one thing – that he was not who they were rooting for. That, however, only seemed to fill him with more motivation to prove them wrong.

Perhaps he could neither kill nor survive the Dark Lord, but maybe he could at least tire him a little bit.

‘His Lord’ – _Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time, feared more than Grindelwald solely because it is a reasonable thing to fear insanity_ – was taking some damage as well. Apparently unaccustomed to dodging curses, or perhaps enduring them for show for the rest of his Eaters, He was letting his skin cover with the faint black lines again. They grew darker with each of the spells Severus managed to slide through His defence.

 _Pathetic one for the Greatest_ , though perhaps not everybody had had the chance of ever duelling against a truly powerful wizard, like Dumbledore, for training.

Severus was making sure his remarks were plain in the very antechamber of his mind. They were left there for the Dark Lord to stumble upon, should He venture into Legilimency now. However, he did not feel the poignant coolness of Voldemort’s mental touch. Unfortunately, because His uncontrolled rage would only work to Severus’ advantage. On the other hand, this signified Snape was enough of a challenge to keep Him focused on the duel itself. It was a hopeful sign. An exhausted Dark Lord could help the Prophecy come true.

They had only one chance now and Remus was it.

Part of Severus still wished Remus would ignore that call of _‘destiny’_. He prayed for it just as desperately as he guarded any traces of that dream from showing themselves to his opponent. Yet, he was sure Lupin was only waiting for the right moment to reveal himself.

That moment came – or rather – would have come – after Severus fell to the ground, finally defeated, aching more than he remembered to ever have. His wand was glistening in black, so stark in contrast with the Dark Lord’s white skin. It still trembled in accordance to the wishes of its previous master, but was conquered now.

Just like its master himself was.

A spell bound Severus, rendering him paralysed and unable to speak. The Dark Lord’s lipless grin returned, barring his fang-like teeth as He admired His doing.

Severus counted on Remus’ sense. The only way for him to succeed now was waiting until Severus’ agony would grasp the attention of all. Certainly, the Dark Lord would oblige in providing a torture racking enough for his last breath, that the Eaters would be captivated by it. Sadly, Severus couldn’t see him now, so the goodbye they shared that morning had to suffice him for the final one.

Instead, Severus had his eyes stuck in a sight more horrid than an Avery with features oddly softened from up by a smile, when it was Remus hidden underneath them. They were fixed in front of him, on the inhuman man, who he barely even feared now, that He only meant death.

Or did He?

“You dared raise your wand against me, Snape—“ the Dark Lord said, lifting him into the air with a fine flourish of the Deathstick. “In the hand that bears my Mark – MY MARK!” He yelled, in the same high-pitched roar Severus recalled from his first would-be death, years ago. The roar of rage reserved for traitors.

Well, He got that right, both times. _Kill me for it and be done with it, Riddle._ – Severus taunted in the only way left for him.

“Oh that – that can wait, my closest treacherous servant…” The Dark Lord replied aloud, composing himself again, amusement flaming the redness of his irises. “Firstly, you will be punished for the brass that made you believe you could trick your Lord—“ He announced, making Severus expect yet another Crucio to tear right through him.

The curse never came.

Instead, he caught Voldemort’s glare travelling to the table behind – or now below – Snape. The flames in His eyes rose again for a second before He said, freezing the blood in Severus’ veins for good, “Why don’t we have your dear beastly friend join us?”

A multitude of gasps filled the Hall up to the ceiling as the Eaters realised there was a fraud in their midst. One more, at least. The choir was broken by yet another outburst of magic assaulting the Dark Lord.

Remus’ spell missed Voldemort by inches, as if it had been steered off the course by some sort of a higher power.

 _Prophecy my arse –_ Severus cursed inwardly, unable even to bite his lip right to blood as he wished he could have.

The Dark Lord cackled. “Just once, is it?” he goaded. “And I have been under the impression that—“

Yet another explosion of vibrant colour interrupted His speech as Remus advanced upon Him, finally coming into Severus’ field of vision.

The dance of a duel was repeating now, though this time Severus was the one reduced to the role of a passive observer. With almost two dozen Eaters (even if mostly new ones) staring at the bout and the prisoner he was, any action would be countered swiftly. Still, Severus attempted to break through the spells bounding him, focused on gathering all the magic at his disposal.

Voldemort’s curses were strong enough to hold him firmly in place.

He could only look as Remus fended off the Dark Lord’s curses, gracefully sidestepping every detrimental green beam and wreaking with fierceness that matched Severus’ own from before.

Yet another ill-boding stripe drew itself on the Dark Lord’s face. If logic and the ramblings of a spirit-visited drunkard were to be trusted, it meant nothing now. Voldemort had healed from worse before, had He not? He was, indeed, invincible.

Even with the whole damned deck stacked against him, Remus refused to give up. He swirled round the space in the chamber, as if there was hope to feed his energy. He was taking less damage than Severus had been, but it hurt terribly to see him wince, not to mention imagining what was coming next. The lump clogging Severus’ throat grew with each passing second.

Why, oh why, hadn’t they had the chance to face Him together like planned? Then, Remus’ impressive ability to dodge and attack, and Severus’ – to engage the Dark Lord’s attention, could have been combined.

Why, _why in Merlin’s, Circe’s, God’s, and whoever bloody else’s_ , _name_ , nothing had gone along with their meticulous scheme?

Why the fuck did he have to feel every part of himself shatter, when Remus fell down, hit in the head with a simple Stupefy. It only happened because Avery was taller than he was. Not used to the height, Remus forgot to duck deeply enough, in the haze of a duel.

Severus cursed that it was just a stunning spell. This could not presage anything good.

With his second adversary down on the ground and unconscious, the Dark Lord ambled to the centre of the chamber, so that he was directly in front of the Eaters Severus couldn’t see.

He lowered his wand and pointed it at Remus, removing the disguise with a spell Severus hadn’t suspected to even exist. The body morphed, shrinking in length and losing resemblance to Avery. The elongated jaw squared, covering itself with silver and brown hairs, as did the top of his head, riding up in greying locks. The Death Eater robe faded, transforming into a beige sweater, reaching right up to Remus’ neck.

Remus’ eyes were still closed, the vision of their failure spared to him, when the Dark Lord lifted him from the stone floor with muttered incantations, suspending him in the air next to Severus.

The realisation they both would die, probably taking Draco – still an inert, platinum-haired ragdoll down below – with them, washed over Severus in a debilitating, tenacious wave, like a waterfall of blood.

Then, he was turned in place by wave of the Dark Lord’s wand, so that now he was facing his former comrades, seeing the leers of the Carrows. Voldemort stepped slightly to the side, as if making room for the show, the entertainer of an especially gruesome circus.

A second later, Severus hit the ground. His left sheen was sending stinging bolts of pain up his spine, as if it had broken. He looked up – Remus was still held above by the spell. It was only him his Master had thrown back down, because it was him he wanted to address.

“What a wonderful presentation it is, for all my newest friends—“ the Dark Lord said to his Eaters, “—on just what fate meets those who dare act against me. And you—“ He was speaking directly to him now, “—Severus, did more than betray me. You thought you have outsmarted me and took another of my servants with you—“ the Elder Wand whirled towards Draco. “—You are bound to save the boy, from what the girl’s mind told me—which is why he will be the last. Or perhaps that will be his mother…”

The invisible ropes restraining Severus disappeared. Instantly, Crucio took their place, adding injury to the threat. The Dark Lord countered the chaotic outburst of Severus’ wandless magic as if he was, indeed, a little kid with no control of its force. Trashing on the ground, through the searing whiteness obscuring his brain, he realised Remus regained his consciousness. _To watch the agony,_ otherwise even more unable to act than earlier.

“—I was convinced you would have your uses…” The Dark Lord continued, hissing out the words languidly, as if he wasn’t dealing a torturous blow at the same time. His voice was cutting Severus from the inside as much as the inexistent blades of his curse were. “And correctly so. Never had I dreamed, however, that you would have done so much. Let this be my token of gratitude—“

The pain of Crucio abandoned him for a second, replaced by the typical soreness.

“—The whole rebellion, Severus. **All of them** – and every place they looked for cover in, all conquered right in time, thanks to you. All it took was watching you carefully. Patience gives, and it yields a crop… Oh… it so very much does.” He laughed again, for longer this time. The eerie sound contrasted with the well-lit school hall, no matter how many murderers it housed now.

If Severus had any choice, he would have preferred the curse to hearing the sounds of his Lord’s amusement. Perhaps He saw that in his mind, because He quickly provided its return.

After a while, the Dark Lord spoke to him again. “Yaxley would never have managed to capture them all if it hadn’t been for you.” He said in an offhanded tone, once again lifting his wand and the spell with it.

A bark of protest issued from Corban’s mouth. Even though he could move now, Severus couldn’t see him. The cold sweat running down his forehead mixed with blood from some wound of unknown origin and obscured his vision.

While he heaved, curled up on the floor, Voldemort’s words barely broke through to him. “No, you would not have—“ He mitigated Yaxley. “—I want all of you to know that I do give acknowledgement when it’s due. Besides, I would never have compared a faithful friend of mine, like yourself, Corban, to someone who had BETRAYED ME—“

The Crucio came back in another stroke, accompanying the Dark Lord’s angered shriek. Severus felt his nerves boil underneath his skin.

“—to someone who fraternizes with FILTH—“

He had been under the curse for too long already. Even if he had a wand, he wouldn’t be able to move a finger anymore. The buzzing magic in him was strained and useless, so incredibly useless. From what he was able to register through his twitching eyelids, purple streaks of light materialised in the air again, flickering around the Dark Lord. Yet, He was treating them as if they were merely another element of his dramatic show of strength – a peculiar set of fireworks made of exploding powder and perishing hope.

“—to Dumbledore’s LAPDOG even in death—“

Perhaps more than he ever had before, Sever just longed for the end to come.

“—to the one who served the enemies of his Lord in memory of a MUDBLOOD—“

“Don’t you—“ was all Severus managed to cough out, along with a copious amount of his own blood.

“—Call her that?” Voldemort provided, a malicious smirk audible in his voice. “My dear treacherous servant – you should not have trusted little Potter’s mind the way you have. For he died like his mudblood mother did—begging—and so ever since then, ever since then I knew so well that you would have your uses. And the mudblood… well, she was that exactly.”

In his writhing, through the internal shrill filling his ears, Severus heard a snake slither against the floor. She must have just left her place around the back of her Master’s empty chair. _At least I know what my coffin will be –_ he noted with incongruent calm.

“—While I see—“ the Dark Lord resumed, leisurely. “—your taste in – companions – has only deteriorated since then… First mudbloods, now creatures—“

Severus’ mind made the last, herculean effort of gaining clarity and granting him power over his surrendering body. He saw the Dark Lord’s twisted mien gain yet another stroke of black, the green washing over his pale skin like some sort of mist. Infuriated, Voldemort barred his teeth along with the forked tongue, like a venomous snake locating its prey.

Crucio only stopped racking Severus for a different type of torment to take its place, as the Dark Lord cast the morphing curse on Remus.

Against his better judgement, Severus lifted his gaze from Voldemort’s face. He had decided he should see that happen, as a token of respect and because it was _purely my fault._

The rapid transformation looked more gruesome than it had sounded the last time he witnessed it. Now it was unbearably silent, as the spell from before held through the curse, only letting Remus utter completely mute screams that twisted his poor face, deformed by the constant changes from and into a snout.

His own vision blurry, Severus watched the features he _…loved, that’s the word_ … twist with the mixture of transformation and immense pain.

He prayed, _bloody prayed_ , which he had not done since early childhood, that the heart failure Remus had been worried about would take place as soon as possible. After an eternity, it finally did.

Remus died a human, though with claws for nails, tearing through the fatally still air.

In the last second before his trembling, ever-changing form turned limp in the bubble of the spell that was keeping him in the air, their eyes met for a second. The amber of Remus’, irrecusably part wolfish, was peaceful.

Severus welcomed the return of Crucio like a blessing. It washed over him in a terrible wave of agony, taking his focus off from Remus, from the horror he had just witnessed and his conjectures on the fates of Teddy, Draco, Cissa, the rebels…

He had failed every single one of them.

His howl of pain turned fluently into a sorrowful wail. He hated himself for that. Hopefully, no one had been listening to its timbre attentively enough to notice.

The room kept flickering around him, so Severus forced his eyes shut. He had to keep the mist starting to cover them from turning into anything more than that.

Writhing on the ground with no control over his limbs, he only wanted to preserve the one over his brain. He felt the prodding presence of Voldemort, poking at his mind’s edges. Guarding it had no purpose now that the Dark Lord had revealed He knew everything, but Severus clung to it even still.

“There is no use in fighting, Severus. Never was.”

Perhaps that was true. However, Severus would rather die from the pain of the spell alone than give away his memories willingly. Besides, maybe there was something, anything there that He did not know of yet. It was a naive hope, but a justified one for a dying man.

His thoughts were freezing over, turning into ice ensuing from the cackles of the Dark Lord, piercing him more than the awareness of the end.

It was so cold that it burned.

He wasn’t registering what was happening around him anymore, but for the demanding voice of the Dark Lord resonating in his head – or the chamber. He couldn’t be sure. His mind felt as if it was closing itself off on its own now, subsiding into nothingness part after part. It was crumbling down, but not caving in – all the knowledge inside it would be buried along with Severus.

Finally, Voldemort realised that too.

With an expression of utter boredom on his reptilian face, the Dark Lord changed the spell and the brightness of pain melted seamlessly into the greenness of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, please do not throw your electronic devices at any walls (or track me down to seek vengeance). Although this chapter is, perversely, named 'The End', it is not it. 


	23. The Afterlife

A sound followed them almost all throughout their path. Astoria could swear it was one of steps, not just the rustle of leaves as Draco dismissed it as. The steps were only getting louder as they returned to that characteristic spruce once again. She still had no idea why it was them and not just an owl who delivered the message. From what she understood from Draco’s explanation, things of equal importance had been sent by the Headmaster’s crow before. However, she had a gut feeling that it was connected both to Teddy and the surprisingly worried frown the Headmaster wore back when he promised to Mrs. Malfoy he would “do anything in his power to save Draco.”

Frankie, the house elf that used to be Draco’s nanny, left them in the middle of a forest, with barely any further hints to find the camp. Apparently, the rebels were suspicious enough not to have given them any. Thus, the only hope they had now, was that they would come out looking for them on their own.

A crack of a breaking twig came from the depth of the woods. Next – something that irrecusably sounded like a muttered swearword. Draco’s ponytail hit her in the face as they both turned towards the noise.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first.” Draco whispered, halting in place and piercing the shadows of bushes with his wand pointed at them.

Teddy, clutched to her chest in the carrier, momentarily forgot his scared crankiness and tried to grab the ribbon holding Draco’s hair, using this ill-timed moment to give out a chortle. Astoria tried to still him, but she barely had the time to as much as shift so that he could see her, before a flare of scarlet lit the twilight around them. Draco dodged the spell, leaping so that he was in between her and the attackers. Astoria quelled the impulse to step forward and stand at his side – she couldn’t expose the baby to such danger. Still, she drew her wand.

As the piece of wood danced between her fingers, catching Teddy’s curious gaze, a tall, pale figure emerged from beyond the trees with a whish. Draco must have recognised the man instantly, because he reached back and placed his hand on Astoria’s sleeve, pushing her wandhand down. The lack of retaliation did not stop the man from casting Expelliarmus yet again.

First, Draco was disarmed, a second later – herself.

The man shoved both the wands into his left pocket. Then, he cast Lumos, brightening the whole woodlet. Astoria examined his face in the light, noticing his red hair.

Probably wanting to see what was going on, Teddy squirmed in the carrier. Yet, when he heard the man’s angry voice say, “What the hell are **you** doing here? It’s not you that was supposed to come!”, he burrowed his head in the folds of Astoria’s robe fearfully. She patted his instantly ginger hair placatingly.

“Congratulations, Sherlock Weasley. I am, indeed, not Snape—” Draco replied, somehow managing to smirk.

Astoria wasn’t sure that was a good idea. The reddening face of _Ron? –_ she wondered, trying to pin a name to the face through recalling the undesirables’ posters – _yeah, probably Ron,_ confirmed her suspicions.

Ronald was still aiming at them, even now that they were both defenceless. “Now tell me one thing… one thing, Malfoy, that says I shouldn’t bloody curse you this instant—” he demanded.

“Well… How about – ‘we mean no harm’?” Draco chanced. “As you could see from us letting you disarm us, I suppose?”

“You didn’t have to let me do shit! And you’re not the one who’ll be judging that, Malfoy.” Ron raised his wand at Draco’s head. “—And get your bloody hands out of your pockets, so I can see them.” 

Having done as he was told, Draco grasped her hand tightly and only then did Astoria realise that his trembled a little bit.

It was not fifteen minutes ago he joked about how dumb it would be if something happened to them now, of all times. It became a realer possibility now. Astoria shared his apprehension wholeheartedly. She kept eying redhead’s wand with attention, which was about the only thing that allowed her to keep her calm when Ron fired out a spell, conjuring a blindfold for Draco. She too lost her vision just after him, around the time Draco regained his confidence.

“Oh, don’t forget the kid, Weasel. What if he tells someone?” he jibed.

Ron ignored him, though perhaps not completely, considering the following susurrus of fabric, possibly that of a blindfold enveloping Teddy’s head. As if on command, Teddy started crying and Astoria’s muttered lulling couldn’t keep him quiet anymore.

“—Teddy, come on, it’s alright—“ Draco added in an entirely different tone, his hand now feeling blindly around Astoria’s shoulders to find the kid. Then, however, he returned to his obstreperous drawl, “Hope you’re good at hushing children, Weasley. And you’ll probably have to carry him wherever you’ll be leading us, if you so insist on making us blind on the way.”

“Shut your mouth, Malfoy.”

A metallic clicking followed Ron’s order and soon enough Draco disobeyed, “Sure, bloody chain us. Don’t you see the obvious—“

“Ron? What is going on?” a woman’s voice asked suddenly. “—Oh my—“

“Reason is back around us—“ Draco said to Astoria’s ear, though missing it by a lot and speaking in a theatrical whisper either way. “Never have I thought I’d say that, but I’m happy to see – well, hear – you, Granger,” he went on, a bit louder. “Maybe you can convince the dim guard of yours to take my shackles off—“

“YOU—“ Ron began, but quickly broke off.

“Why—how—how did **you** get here?” Hermione Granger marvelled, shaking her head. Without another word, she took the blindfolds off their eyes, letting Astoria see her ebony hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“Shhh—“ Astoria continued the pointless pacifying, now able to show Teddy a reassuring smile. The kid, however, now that he had started crying, was having a hard time stopping.

Draco, meanwhile, engaged in the banter again. Despite his hands still being chained, he was measuring the two Gryffindors with an almost challenging gaze. “Well, guess how… Se—Snape told us where to go, obviously. He hadn’t told you the details, because after the shit you pulled with the potion, we decided mutual mistrust is the best strategy.”

He had altered the truth a bit, but Astoria restrained herself from giving him a nudge to ribs, deciding that this probably wasn’t the best time to be overly comprehensive.

Ron was staring them down with a mix of mistrust and anger painted on his freckled frown, but Hermione seemed more open to dialogue. “Are you truly Draco Malfoy, then?” she asked Draco, coming up closer to them two and dragging Weasley with her. “Ron, can you think of an authorising question – like… I don’t know… from the time you were in the Common back in 2nd grade?”

The redhead looked from her to the intruders, who, unlike her, he was still keeping at wandpoint. “I… well…” The wrinkles on his forehead deepened as he paused to think. “…Who did you agree was the worst thing to happen to Hogwarts?”

“Potter.” Draco answered without hesitation, but with a minuscule downward quirk of his lips.

Hermione raised her brow questioningly at Ronald. “He’s him—“ the redhead declared. “Or should be – but he could’ve shared something like that with his fellow Death Eaters, couldn’t he…”

“He couldn’t.” Astoria interrupted. Both the boys were acting as if they were children, bickering like that. It was very much possible help was needed in Hogwarts at this very moment and they were wasting time on snarks. “He’s not one. There, Draco, why don’t you show them your left arm.” After meeting Draco’s eyes, which he rolled to remind her that he couldn’t do such a thing, she did it for him. “—See? No Mark. That’s why we’re here today, not anytime else – because he’d get marked today.”

“I—who are you, again?”

“This is Astoria Greengrass—“ Hermione replied before she could do so herself. It earned her a very surprised look from her friend. “What? Daphne hung out around Pansy a lot and they’re practically identical… you are, I mean — and my name is—“ she amended, breaking off when Ron squeezed her arm suddenly.

“Yes, I do look a bit like her. And it’s fine, I know your names.”

“Why don’t we postpone the introductions and gossip for when we’re all free-handed, how about that, Granger—Weasley?” Draco suggested, but before either of the two had made any decision on that, yet another shape revealed itself out of the dimness surrounding them.

“And what are you lovebirds up to, instead of guarding, that my sister’s left there all alone, huh?” the stocky, ginger man asked. “Oh bloody hell—Malfoy’s fucking son!” he exclaimed having come fully into the light, causing Teddy to twitch fearfully and bawl even louder.

“I am, indeed,” Draco confirmed. He stretched his shackled hands towards the newcomer, exposing his unblemished skin again. “Now will you people get those off so that Teddy can stop wailing? Remus would kill me for letting you all torture his kid like that.”

The two Weasleys exchanged glances, but once more it was Hermione who called it – nodding towards Ron, who upon that signal lowered his wand towards Draco’s hands. “Fine, Ferret—” he said, reluctantly lifting the spell.

Draco began massaging his wrists, quite clearly for show. Still, before she began unwrapping Teddy from the carrier to hand the kid to him, Astoria gave him a comforting caress. She was bursting to ask where the nickname had come from, since it could confirm a piece of gossip she’d heard back in second year, but reminded herself that time could be crucial to their case.

Ringer, because that was what Hermione referred to the new guy (who had to be another Weasley brother, but it was easy for Astoria to get confused about all the names), came to a halt before Draco now. Tilting his head, he asked, interrogatively, “You know what, Ferret, I think you owe us an explanation for something. Remus? What do you mean – Remus? Last time I checked, he wasn’t on a name basis with any kids of Eaters’ scum.”

 _Oh right – they don’t know yet –_ Astoria realised.

She hadn’t known either, until recently, though the information did not move her much – it only proved what she had believed in anyways – that Headmaster Snape was not of the same clay as, say, Draco’s dad. However, she realised she would probably be as steaming as Ringer if she were in his place.

Draco, offended, did not share her empathy. “Last time you checked, he was dead, I would argue.” From the looks of it, only the presence of the already far calmer child in his arms stopped Ringer from hitting him upon those words. “And last time I did—“ Draco went on languorously, as if he hadn’t noticed the jolt of Weasley’s curled fist, “—he was fighting side to side with Snape, yelling at me to go.”

“Are you saying he’s alive?!” Hermione asked incredulously, her eyes widening.

“I don’t know about right now, but he was earlier today, yes.”

“—How in hell?” Ringer inquired, still pursing his brows.

“That’s so very much not a story for now, Weasley. You’ll have to take my word for it—“

“Like hell we will!” Ron backed his brother in the doubtfulness. “You show up here, Malfoy, unannounced, telling tales, and you think we’ll just believe you?!”

Before they could get into another round of their useless sparing, Astoria threw her pennyworth, saying firmly, “We really don’t have much time. We’re here more so to lead you back into Hogwarts than anything else… By the way, if you could all cut on the cussing when Teddy’s around, that would be lovely.”

“Oh you do have time.” Ringer assured, crossing his muscular arms on his chest. “Enough time to prove that you won’t be leading us into a trap.”

“Word. There are two people here that trust your lot, but the rest you’ll bl—ubbering have to convince.” Ron agreed, sending a brief, somewhat scolding look to Hermione. “Now we’re going—” he added, showing them the direction with his wand, which quickly returned to keeping them in the firing line.

“Guess we’ll try.” Draco said, shrugging. “It’s not like we’ve got any other choice, do we?”

Astoria felt the fingers of his right hand intertwine with hers before they started walking, with a Weasley at each side and Hermione behind them. A bird, which their group must have startled, flew right past them, making a grin appear briefly on Teddy’s face.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His eyelids gave the impression of being nearly translucent, but they were still heavy to lift. Even succeeding at that barely gave him any clue as to where he was. He couldn’t work out the shape of the room, which seemed to be radiating some sort of an unearthly glow. The last he had seen was the emerald gleam and now everything was light-struck too, but with a softer, non-blinding brightness to it, which, nevertheless, took him a moment to adjust to.

He was still trying to connect a memory with the location – unfamiliar and almost surreal with its wood and a smell of grass coming through the open windows along with the sound of waves – when a raspy voice broke the sun-bathed quiet. “Severus—it’s okay, Severus—” it whispered drowsily, anchoring him back to reality.

Amidst the golds and beiges surrounding him, Severus recognised only two things for sure – the black cotton of the bedding drawn up to his neck and the pale face of Remus, dotted in freckles. Remus, who had lifted himself to a half-sitting position quickly, was now looking at him. A reassuring smile stretched his lips, spreading up to his sleep-filled eyes.

The smile did its job very well – Severus did instantly feel reassured by it, as he did by the fact of Remus’ continuous existence. Everything was, indeed, **okay.**

“It was that one again, wasn’t it?” Remus asked, yawning. Then, he quickly leaned to him, placing a peck on his forehead. “The one where it all ends up being your fault somehow?”

Severus nodded to his guess, feeling his lips twitch upwards.

“You really have a martyr complex, I’ve been telling you.” Remus’ grin swayed to the side, showing a dimple underneath his stubble. “An enormous one, honestly. Almost Gryffindorish…”

Remus had that awful muggle t-shirt on, which he wore as pyjamas – the one with four men crossing a street (it fit him nicely though). Now Severus raised his elbow in a measured blow, aiming for the feet of the shoeless one.

His attack was evaded easily and with a soft huff of laughter. “Well see you, defeated You-Know-Who, one could say, but can’t even give a proper nudge—“ Remus teased, laying back on his heaps of pillows, while Severus began scrambling up and off the bed.

“Oh… Where—where are you going?” Remus marvelled.

Severus stopped in his movement, meeting his eyes – as wide as they were able to get with him recently woken up. “To work on my commissions, obviously.”

“Severus… get back here. It’s bloody weekend, surely you don’t have anything to do. Frankie’s on duty with Teddy, so don’t you try to use that excuse either.” Remus reached to the verge of the bed to draw him back onto the mattress with a rather non-drowsy might. “And the hour’s ridiculous, probably, so I plan on sleeping through it. You’re very much welcome to join in. Oh don’t pout at me – really – I need you here.”

There was a harsh dot at the end of Remus’ last sentence, punctuated with a yawn.

Severus grunted with discontent, but complied. He lied down again, with his back to the shutterless windows, so that the sunlight pouring inside through the _damned_ net curtains wasn’t hitting his eyes. The, he put his hand delicately on Remus’ cheek, hoping it was no harsher in touch than the sunbeams settled upon it already.

Meanwhile, Remus pulled the duvet up so that they were both fully covered again, then swung his arm around Severus’ waist, as if to ensure that he wouldn’t sneak away the very second he closed his eyes. Severus had no such intentions, even though he was not sure he would be able to fall back asleep. Just resting there, in a languid tangle of limbs like there were now, sounded like a great plan for the morning; for anytime, really.

\---

The war did not end with the Dark Lord’s death. It did not end with all the – this time very much identifiable – Death Eaters being charged with their crimes either. If anything, it ended only when the new Minister of Magic took over, though still, she was operating on ruins. It was peculiar, but not surprising, that a few months shy of two years of Voldemort’s reign could bring damage that would take years, or perhaps decades, to repair.

For some – the war never ended – it only changed its form into a daily struggle with a different, ( _allegedly_ ) less deadly kind of hostility.

Remus had close to dragged him outside the very moment it was safe to do so. Severus only didn’t refuse because of the halo of happiness radiating from his beam, ignited by the excitement that it was now possible for him to walk outside freely.

He had suggested Polyjuice, but Remus deflected that offer with, “I want us to be us. Simply because I finally can – we finally can.”

Severus swallowed the very obvious conclusion that, considering who he was – or had been before, they were guaranteed to attract attention to themselves.

He had been right, of course.

The day was sweltering hot and people had crawled out of their homes like a colony from a treaded-on anthill, bustling around Diagon Alley in noisy flocks. The Alley was barely damaged in the last outburst of war, for a change. Therefore all the shops that the had survived the previous one, remained open now.

The shop windows, though filled with their usual merchandise, seemed somewhat more sultry, as if decorated with more care. At least that was what Frankie had said during her reconnaissance before. Severus wouldn’t know – the last time he’d visited London was around last Christmas. He would very much want to have it stay like that, but then there was the way Remus was grinning at the sun, as if he’d not seen it before at all, and how Teddy was chortling, overjoyed by his dad’s presence.

Although the probability of running into a Death Eater or another murderous peril was the lowest in years, it did not **feel** safe for the two of them. They walked through the sun-inflamed cobblestone street with people’s eyes sticking to them like flies to a honeycomb. Severus was sending freezing looks at anyone he caught staring, but they had lost their power from before. He wasn’t feared anymore, just curiously analysed or outright despised.

It was bound to transfer onto Remus too, especially considering they were already two male wizards with a kid whose hair colour changed with kaleidoscopic frequency. While Remus was doubtlessly displeased with the ogling, he seemed more immune to it than Severus was – smiling back at the gawkers, as if they were his acquaintances, not inimical strangers.

Their initial plan that morning was to go to Fortescue’s, whose parlous had been revived by his family and, according to Draco, “just as good as it always was, trust me sir—I mean, Severus—“

When Draco and Astoria visited the place, they were both disguised as some random people whose hair they had acquired “—on the tube. We’ve been sort of sightseeing the muggle London – I mean really, muggles and their ideas!”

 _That explains why Draco enjoyed it_ – Severus thought now, feeling the daggers of looks cut through him from the shop’s terrace as they advanced towards the entrance.

Warm fingers squeezed his right hand before he opened the door. He would have wondered how did the kid’s hand get so scarred and heavy or reminded Remus what he thought of public displays of anything, not to mention affection. However, he felt it tremble lightly, confirming that his own apprehension was very much shared, and therefore he remained silent.

Inside, nestled up in clumps around the sweets-filled tables, was a horrible crowd composed of all those poor souls unable to fit outside, under the shades. Many of them turned their heads to the newcomers in a delayed wave, twitching like the antrophod legs of a giant centipede.

“I heard this is the last werewolf – That’s good, isn’t it?”; “But wasn’t this one fighting against He-Who before?”; “Why is the werewolf standing with that monster of a bastard—Well, takes one to know one, doesn’t it?” The susurrus followed them viciously as they crossed the room.

Severus willed himself to start talking immediately. No trifle that could come to his head would bother Remus more than the whispers they were privy to hear, now that they weren’t just passing by.

Although Remus took the lifebuoy for what it was, telling him his opinion on the newest issue of the Quibbler with exaggerated enthusiasm, the smile in his crinkled eyes was still glimmering genuinely. Apparently, not even a tsunami of unwelcoming stares and comments could throw him off enjoying the day. Severus, deciding he would not do that either, did not snatch his hand from his grip and they stayed like that in the queue, at least until Remus had to leave to change Teddy.

When left alone, Severus measured the room with a glare, noticing, that here and there people were consulting their staring with the Prophets. Obviously, this could not bode well, but it was a problem for later – now they were supposed to enjoy themselves.

With the distinctive feeling of being bored into, Severus suddenly turned behind. He was expecting… well, he wasn’t sure who… a distant family member of one of his former comrades, perhaps. Instead, the rubberneck turned out to be a thin man in a rather expensive-looking ruby robe, a bit too thick for this weather, who was standing behind him in the queue.

“How can I help you?” Severus asked with an expression he trusted to add the offer of sampling an unforgivable curse on its own.

Upon examining Severus’ face, the man turned sharply to his wife with a look of indignation, then back to him, puffing his chest bravely _and stupidly_ , but not meeting his eyes _._ “They should’ve locked you down in Azkaban—“ he stated, remarkably square chin jutting with contemptuous challenge.

“You would be best advised to focus on your ice-cream order—“ Severus suggested softly, letting the tip of his wand emerge from his sleeve. He was absolutely forbidden to use any sort of harming magic – that was the main condition of his probation. But it never hurt to bluff.

The man eyed his hand, but did not seem all too concerned. “I know with the lot of you—“ he said, with a shadow of a mocking smile. “—but I also know you cannot cast so much as a jinx, ‘less you want to be waiting for your trial in a neat cell. Bet you haven’t thought of that—“ the Ministry Worker continued.

Severus glowered at the man, silently now, then looked over his own shoulder, counting how many people were left until they would reach the counter.

“—Honestly, it is shocking You-Know-Who ever held up a government for more than a week… with people like that serving for him…” the red-clad prat refused to shut up behind his back, chatting up his dour-looking wife.

 _And wonder where you were, if not working under one of ours, cowering in fear of losing your life or soul should you do anything against Him._ – Severus bit down his tongue, taking a step forward as the line advanced. It would be unwise to aggravate anyone who could have anything to do with his case, even if this man’s power apparently laid in gossip.

As if to assure him in his opinion, the man went on, directing it at the still quiet woman by his side, but loudly enough for Severus to hear him clearly. “Word goes he’s going to land himself in a neat cell anyway, but he better not brandish that wand too much, or someone’ll take his eye out with it—“

“Is there a problem?” Remus asked, sliding next to Severus and, unlike Teddy, finding his frown worrying, more than worth imitating.

“And if that isn’t the Last Werewolf—“ the Ministry Worker said with wonder, eyes darting from Remus’ _somehow still beaming_ face, part-turned towards him now, to Teddy’s in his embrace. “—Oslo syndrome, muggles call it? Something in the north, I knew it, blimey, slipped my mind—“ he searched for a prompt in his wife, but she did not provide it, instead just shrugging dismissively.

“Stockholm—” Remus provided through gritted teeth. “And just for your information – the Prophet was no more accurate with that than it was back when it called Harry Potter delusional—“ He, apparently, had been more meticulous than Severus at reading the press this weekend.

“Pretty accurate then, I’d call it—“ the buffoon retorted. “One shouldn’t say a bad thing about the dead, but that boy was definitely off his rocker—“

“He was not.” Remus stated firmly, stepping a bit too close to the man to have it pass as merely doing so for balance. “Neither am I, for that matter. And Severus neither were nor is a ‘torturer’ of anyone.” There was a growl running underneath the polite surface of his voice.

Severus pulled slightly at his wrist. _Don’t let a nobody provoke you_ – his eyes were saying when they met Remus’, no longer as limpid in their amber as they had been earlier. He wasn’t sure whether that message was aimed more at Remus or himself, but the only person it had any effect on was the twit’s wife.

“—Except – of muggleborns and werewolves, hasn’t he been?” she chose that ill-timed moment to finally speak. A fascinated expression flicked through her face, one bringing to mind a child who had just tried casting Incendio for the first time.

“You should really expand your interests away from other people’s lives, especially if you’re getting those so wrong. He had not. The Prophet seems to forget – which is no surprise considering what they were publishing not two weeks ago – but he had bloody saved one, not that this is any of your business. Besides, he’s one of the reasons you’re even able to be here today, celebrating Voldemort’s fall, I’m guessing.” Remus raged with his sky-before-the-storm calm, taking yet another step in the wrong direction.

Just how feigned his peacefulness was showed in how the muscles of his left hand tensed before he curled it into a fist. He was supporting the kid with the other one, and yet still the woman made a terrified gasp.

The ministry worker put a guarding arm over his theatrically-talented wife and shot Remus a reproachful look, which made Severus sincerely regret that placing a nonverbal hex on them both was completely out of the question.

Her trill of fake fearfulness must have been some sort of a signal call, because out of the sudden a concerned matron rose before them. “Oh—so this is the werewolf—“ she said, sticking her studious gaze into them both. As it descended upon Teddy, she crooned, “Oh poor kid, with **that** as your father.”

If it had been him she was referring to, Severus would probably stem his anger through biting the inside of his cheek – the Ministry worker was still watching, after all, now even more closely. However, it was about Remus, so obviously about him, based on the mere accentuation of the word ‘werewolf’.

And Remus, who told Teddy a tale about Tonks on the anniversary of her death without so much as letting his voice tremble, who was taking care of his mentally withered mother-in-law with a smile plastered onto his face, who despite everything remained happy this whole morning, failed to stop a tear from rolling down his chin. As it got lost between the hairs of his beard, Severus caught the leer on the woman’s face contorting even more heinously. He knew what she was thinking. Perhaps there was a time he would have wholeheartedly agreed, but a whole lot had changed since then.

Besides – Severus’ cheek was already bleeding.

“If I were you—“ Severus drawled, putting on his most venomous smile, “I would not risk finding out what he has for his other father.” He drew his wand and, meeting the red prick’s warning eyes grinned even wider. “I know Azkaban better than you do, I wager. And I hear the Dementors will be ousted from there very soon, so indeed – a neat cell might be not so bad at all.”

The matron skittered away as fast as she had appeared, but she settled at the table right next to the one they had chosen for theirs. More and more it started to look like their plans for today were not going to work out as they had intended.

They turned their backs to the Ministry worker, taking yet another step towards the counter. Teddy babbled somewhat anxiously and Remus lifted the hand supporting him in the carrier to pat his head soothingly. Severus, meanwhile, kept spinning his wand around in his fingers, aware that it now captured the twit’s attention very well when visible for him from the side.

Once Remus was done quieting Teddy a bit, Severus leaned to his ear. “How about a change of location? Give me the kid, then grab my hand.”

Remus turned to him, apprehension woven into the frown on his face, seemingly more seamed than it had been an hour ago. Still, it was clear he was fine with the proposition itself. “You’re sure you won’t hurt yourself? I had little practice, but I can, on my own, you know, just tell me where to—“

In the corner of his eye, Severus saw the matron from before point to them as one of her companions opened their mouth in surprise.

“I am sure. We will start worrying **if** I splinch myself.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Remus sighed, but gave him a faint, yet sincere, smile, sliding his arm out of Severus’ hand to open the carrier on his chest and get Teddy out.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dad said “We’re apparating,” before he took Teddy out of the carrier and into Hawk’s arms.

“Merlin, you are getting heavy.” Hawk complained, but held him with one hand nevertheless.

He shot another look at the bad woman and it made him look really a lot like a real hawk, swooping down on a rabbit in Dragon Boy’s book (on the illustration Dad forbid Teddy seeing ever again). Though in this position Teddy couldn’t see him, he knew Dad was very close to them, his wool-and-tea scent coming from Hawk’s side. Hawk pressed him closer to his hard chest and some of his hair got onto Teddy’s face, making him sneeze.

Dad said, “Bless you.” Then, his hand grazed Teddy’s forehead, brushing away the wisp of black that carried a strong, herbal scent Teddy couldn’t identify in any way other than as ‘too-strong’.

Next, the world swivelled around them. Teddy was now so used to it that it never made him either scared or nauseated. They stilled from their twirling into a place that seemed even brighter than the one they had been in before.

“Is everyone alright?” Hawk asked, looking into Teddy’s face, and he smiled in response.

Hawk’s firm voice sounded a lot louder now, that they had swapped the noise of the bad and unknown people buzzing in the colourful place for soft rustling of plants and something Teddy couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Oh, good.” Dad’s eyes momentarily showed over Hawk’s arm as he leaned to see Teddy. “You’re both fine.”

Teddy felt a scent, which brought to his mind the Lake and also the water leaking out of Dad’s eyes every now and then. This one, however, was more lively and swirled around them like a huge, transparent snake. Teddy wondered if maybe it was exactly that. After all, he already knew creatures he couldn’t see, but which smelled like hair during washing (but before Dad would add the bubbly thing to it) and like something damp lying in the forest.

Maybe this water-smelling, invisible thing did exist. Yet, if so, then neither Dad nor Hawk could see it – they were both focused on Teddy and the sights surrounding them instead.

In a moment, Hawk turned him in his arms and Teddy could take in everything around them. He looked around curiously.

The never-ending plains melted into the sky, in which he noticed a few dark dots he knew to be birds – Hawk had told him all about that on their walks. Down on the ground there were layers of green and gold, a bit like one of Teddy’s blankets, but somehow more vivid, almost blinding him with all the sun. It all was a little like the Hogh-qortz castle (from outside), but without the castle – just the colours and the white clouds above, and a black bird with a vivid orange beak flying away from under Dad’s feet.

Unlike in Hogh-qortz, however, the space was unlimited here – there was no walls, no tall, black sticks that could not be passed – just the blue line of the sky. There were trees guarding one of the sides of this new place, standing in a small, dark group, but even they weren’t solid. Teddy could already see something moving between them – small and brown and definitely not invisible.

Teddy had never seen such a huge place before, not even in the books.

He knew they had a home already and there was nothing that resembled a house around, so even if he were old enough to reason, he wouldn’t have been able to explain away why it was so, but Teddy suddenly thought that this was their _new home._

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had landed in the middle of nowhere and it was beautiful.

The fields stretched up to the horizon in even blankets of yellow and green, curved with the outlines of hills. The branches of trees, tagging the borders between different crops, cut through the azure sky in dark brown squiggles. The air was heavy with scents – of flowers and freshly cut grasses heated by the golden sun suffusing the whole area.

“Where are we?” Remus asked, now that he had ensured both Teddy and Severus were perfectly okay.

“Geographically speaking – no idea.” Severus said earnestly, with a slight pout that vaguely reminded Remus of something. “My mother used to collect herbs around here. It was a forest back then—” he added, almost apologetically.

There still was a forest there, though definitely not woods like Severus had started to tell him he remembered – just a group of trees huddled on the shore of the grasses. As far as Remus could look, the grasses reigned, endlessly striped by different colours of cut grains, the remains of which danced to the rhythm of the faint wind.

Teddy, who had been set onto the ground by Severus, clutched tightly to his robe, visibly overwhelmed by the expanse, but looking around with his mouth open and eyes wide – so terribly unused to open spaces, yet fascinated by them. Something in Remus was flinching at all this too – finding it unusual and terrifying in that, so he grasped Severus’ hand more tightly.

Maybe it was the instinctive search for a hideaway that drove Remus’ eyes to the bevel of a rooftop, partly concealed between the dark, though sparse, walls of the conifers in the distance. Unsure what was it that caught his eye about it, Remus decided to come closer to investigate the building it belonged to. Pulling at Severus’ hand, he began striding towards it.

“What are you—” Severus demanded an explanation, but followed him, while Teddy scampered between them.

“There’s something there, probably a cottage – and if we’ll be strolling around aimlessly anyways, we could at least steal a look at it.”

“And if the owners are around we are disapparating again, I presume?” Severus threw the question over his arm.

Having noticed Teddy’s struggle to catch up with them, Remus had let go of Severus’ hand and slowed down. Thus, now Severus was good five feet ahead of him, walking towards a path, which cut through the fields. Teddy, however, seemed to prefer the brisk pace and, though his legs were a bit unsteady on the uneven surface of the grass, he ran after Severus. He, upon realising that, turned to catch him, then twirled around, holding the babbling kid over his head.

Remus grinned. _Maybe it really wasn’t **un** fortunate that we’d had to change out plans for today. _“That, or asking nicely if we can stay for tea—“ he finally answered, once Teddy had landed safely on the ground again.

Severus smiled at him, slightly flushed in the face, and looking a whole lot more lively than Remus had ever seen him. He gave a barely perceptible nod, then leaned down to Teddy again. “What do you say, kid, is your dad absolutely out of his mind?”

Expectedly, Teddy shook his head. “Hawk. No.”

“When are you going to give up?” Remus wondered, aiming his question at Severus.

“What was that word again? Might have missed me.” Severus replied to them both at once, probably as a form of revenge starting to tickle Teddy.

He was so preoccupied with that (unsurprisingly, since Teddy edged away from him with the swiftness of a loudly giggling lightning bolt), that he didn’t notice Remus sneaking up on him. Before he knew it – Severus too was trying to squirm away.

On top of muttering newly invented swearwords and crowing in squeals, respectively, they were all laughing now, freely and sincerely – all three of them.

The sound rang beautifully through the empty fields, mixing with the susurrus of grass and some nearby body of water. Remus briefly thought how his Patronus had a great chance of lighting up a whole room the next time he would cast it.

Soon enough, Teddy had to be rescued from falling onto the ground, along with no other than his _father._ Unlike the kid, the father in question recoiled from Remus’ aiding hands, expecting more tickling, no doubt, and fell onto his back with a groan.

That gave Remus the possibility to stand astride over him, which he did, with maybe a spark of playfulness showing in his eyes. “So, how is it? Are we checking out the muggle house?”

“Oh come on—“ Severus replied, with a smirk daring Remus to forget that Teddy was there too, even though he was tugging at his robe. “This is unfair.”

“It’s a trade. That’s very fair, as far as I’m concerned—” Remus said, stretching a supportive hand to him again.

Severus took it this time, getting up with an expression of mock discontent stuck to his face. Then, he allowed Remus to lead him towards the mysterious building.

On their way, quite diffidently even though he couldn’t find a justified reason for his own apprehension, Remus opened, “Severus – about the thing you said earlier… you called yourself Teddy’s father—“

The mention of his name caused Teddy to stop in his chase of a butterfly and his eyes pierced Remus curiously, blue like the sky above, then swept over to Severus, who too halted in his steps.

“Yes? Was it wrong of me to?”

“No, no—“ Remus started to amend, but Severus didn’t seem to have heard him.

“—Because I formally am that, which, actually, we can change now if you wish to—and excuse me if my—“

“—It was perfect of you to. That’s all I wanted to say.” Remus assured him, placatingly squeezing his shoulder.

Severus made the smallest sound of surprise, though it was unclear whether at Remus’ words or the touch in itself. Ever since he was rid of the Mark, he was always double startled by any sudden touch coming from Remus, or even Teddy – expecting a jolt of pain and then being “pleasantly disappointed”.

In case it wasn’t just the touch that shocked him, however, Remus went on, once again taking his hand in his as they continued their (fairly fast) amble, “Really. I am ‘dad’ anyways, aren’t I?”

“Dada,” Teddy confirmed, still twisting his head towards them hazardously and forcing Remus to keep his wand ready in case he would need the amortisation for a fall.

“—And as for formalities – we won’t be changing this. Honestly, I think it’s a great way to cheat the system. I doubt we’d have it easy to make you Teddy’s guardian now – and this way, now that I’ve been officially resurrected, he’ll have both us as his fathers on paper. So I’m all for leaving it that way – if you are.”

Severus glanced at him unsurely, in the way he typically did whenever they were discussing something tied to emotions and hopeful plans for the future (or both at once).

“—Besides – it’s also some sort of a legacy – making you Teddy’s guardian was about the only good thing Lucius Malfoy ever made—“ Remus added in jest, to sweep away some of the seriousness.

Severus snorted quietly, drawing Remus’ eyes. “I do not wish to be the one to say that joke—“ he excused himself, with an upward quirk of his thin lip.

“—But you’re bursting at the seams to?” Remus prompted. There was no amount of Severus’ laughter he wouldn’t want to hear and, since his voice was already bubbling with a supressed snicker, it was bound to escape once he’d said it.

Severus nodded before answering, in a falsely grave tone that erupted into a chuckle soon enough. “The only good thing Lucius Malfoy ever **made**? You might be forgetting about Draco.”

Accompanied by the melody of the laughter of the both of them mingled with Teddy’s joyful babbling, they approached the hill on which the house was nestled.

They climbed the gentle slope quickly and, on the verge of the fence of conifers right before a great pear tree, Severus stopped. Having slid his hand out of Remus’, he took off his cape. Then, he leaned down to spread it on the ground between the protruding roots, swiping the few fallen fruits away with his wand.

“Oh excuse you! The house’s just round the corner, we’re not sitting down now—“ Remus said, feigning indignation.

“How about – for a quarter or so?” Severus asked, already taking a seat on that makeshift blanket and placing Teddy next to himself.

Remus looked at the dark navy slates peering over the green wall and noticed the baldachin of grey clouds gathering above it. “This is just a plot to wait for the storm to come, isn’t it?” he replied with a question of his own, though sitting down where Severus had patted the cape to beckon him. “I have to tell you – rain won’t daunt me.”

“We shall see.” Severus winked, leaning back on his elbow and aiming his wand at the tree before them.

Remus turned to observe him and saw the pears trembling at their shanks. “Are you stealing those?”

His answer came through the fruits falling off the tree, levitated below it to Teddy’s joy and amazement. One by one, they landed in a dimple on their rug of a cloak.

“We were supposed to eat, after all. And, I figure, if we are already breaking and entering…” Severus said, grinning slyly as the fifth of the pears flew right into Remus’ hands.

Remus smiled back at him before biting into the scented, smooth skin of the fruit.

\---

He had never doubted whether over-preparedness was a virtue. However, if he had needed to see any more proof of that, this morning was the perfect one. For whatever reason, Severus carried a small mortar with him, which they used it to prepare a mousse for Teddy out of the stolen pears.

Once the kid’s hunger was satiated, they lied down in the ample shadow of the pear tree, Remus with his head in Severus’ lap.

Teddy was sitting by their side, fiddling with his toy owl, brought along by Remus (in turn). Playing with it, didn’t take Teddy’s attention away from their surroundings completely. Every now and then he needed to be caught just before trotting away into the forest or diving between the tall grasses.

The air was brimming with scents of nature and there was nothing but the sounds of animals and the breaths of Remus’ _family_ to disturb the perfect silence. Yet, even in this idyllic scenario, their conversation inevitably fell into the tracks regarding what happened earlier.

“Was it Skeeter? The Pro—“ Severus started to ask.

“Yeah, the article, I got it.” Remus replied quickly, leaning back against his legs so that he could see his face instead of just the sky. “No, it wasn’t her.” Severus raised his brow, as Remus went on, “It’s surprising, I know. It was some new name, Ko-something – I can’t even remember it… we’ll check at home—and it was squeezed in between all the trial coverage, which was why I dared hope it wouldn’t have echoed like this—“

“That’s just the beginning.” Severus said in a tone better fit for a graveyard than a sun-filled meadow. “And I bet my wandarm that as soon as the trials are over, Skeeter will be reminded of our existence – perfect material, frankly – the murderer of her favourite Hogwarts’ headmaster to vilify—“

“—And the last werewolf in Britain—“ Remus completed. “—That’s what they’ve named me... I swear, I don’t even have any idea how they got to the story at all. Sure, they’ve got ninety percent of it wrong or terribly wrong, though still some things—I have no idea how they could’ve leaked.”

“Little owlies told them. Anything that happens openly in Hogwarts resonates in such a manner. Impossible to avoid.” Severus stated cynically. He was combing his fingers through Remus’ hair, but his gaze wasn’t laying on his face anymore.

“You know what the worst part is?” Remus said towards the sharp line of his chin, causing Severus to lower his eyes again. “That I heard people whisper it’s good that I’m last – that werewolves had been ‘eradicated’ – and I wish I didn’t, but I fu—fiddlesticks agree—“ Remus admitted. As he recovered himself from the cussing, the thought of the swearword reminded him to locate Teddy.

He lifted his head a bit and squinted, but the child wasn’t anywhere in his sight. Severus realised why he was shifting and Remus’ worry transferred to him quickly. He straightened, as much as he was able to with Remus resting on him, and cast a searching look around.

“Teddy! Teddy!” Remus exclaimed, head jerking up to get a better view.

He was on the verge of getting up to go look for him, when Severus patted him on the head restfully. “Fine, I see him—” he assured. “Edward, return this instant,” he then commanded, down the slope of the hill.

“Teddy? Teddy, come back here!“ Remus called again, laying back down.

Shortly, a rustle, as if of an animal flashing through the grasses, issued from the direction Severus had been looking at. The golden barrier came apart then closed behind Teddy as he stumbled towards them, his arms held together in front of him. His hands were forming a little cage, in which something was valiantly fluttering, trying to escape.

“Teddy, come here—” Remus repeated, stretching his arm towards him, but the kid sprinted away, giggling. “Come here!” Finally, Severus caught the kid in place. Remus lightly grabbed Teddy’s wrist. “What are you holding there? Let that go.” The little hands were surprisingly strong when Teddy wanted them to and Remus struggled to make him loosen his hold on the captive animal. It was probably the butterfly from before; hopefully – not squished to pulp yet.

“Edward… Cut. That. Out.” Severus pulled out his wand. He twirled it between his fingers just close enough to Teddy to get him transfixed by the light appearing and disappearing at the tip of the wood.

It took that distraction to allow Remus to push the kid’s palm open.

“—yes, exactly—“ Severus said with a hint of appreciation, as the insect escaped in a white flurry. It landed on Remus’ arm, as if too befuddled by its near-death experience to properly fly away from the danger.

Remus turned his head at a nearly neck-breaking angle and saw the poor butterfly rise up, then falter and sink back onto the beige of his robe.

It only took seconds for Teddy to lose his concentration on Severus’ wand. His keen eyes spotted the butterfly shortly and both the adults had to stop him from attacking it again. They caught him under his arms a second before he attempted grabbing the insect. Realising he wouldn’t be able to play with his alive toy anymore, Teddy grimaced and crowed somewhat angrily, shaking his head. His stomping was muffled by the ground. Remus’ hand met with Severus’ on the kid’s shoulder, then pushed the toddler gently to make him sit down.

Meanwhile Severus captured Teddy’s attention with a violet light erupting from his wand and lectured him. “That is a butterfly. A living thing – well, barely now – but it does not deserve to be strangled by your hands, Teddy.” He bent back, making Remus’ temporary pillow of his thigh unstable, then leaned to Teddy again. “Here, why don’t you have a flower you can dissect—“

Teddy accepted the new gift – of a poppy – with a smile, as bright as the flower itself was and immediately tore away one of the petals. Thankfully, he showed no intention of consuming the plant, preferring to create a red confetti out of it. Taught by the experience of their negligence before, however, Remus kept watching him carefully, expecting him to get another impish idea in a blink.

Severus too had his eyes stuck in Teddy and not him now, but he glanced down briefly before speaking. “As for what you said earlier, Remus – I understand your standpoint on it. But they are the ones in the wrong. No one would dare to be so blo—blotting pro it, if it had been a more numerous group exterminated. Say, all the unhealthy, inbred purebloods. Even with muggleborns they seem to have realised it was wrong – mainly because there were plenty of those – or used to, at least.”

“Batey-wey—ivy—floo-wee—ot ivy?” Teddy asked suddenly, his fingers climbing up Remus’ arm, aiming at the place where the butterfly was sitting.

This time it managed to escape right before it would have been flattened by the kid’s palm.

“Yes, Teddy, flower’s not living – or at least it does not feel pain like a butterfly does – and come on, sit down.” Remus encouraged, summoning the plush owl back from the other side of the cape. “And yes—“ he said to Severus, though without conviction, “—maybe it’s just the matter of numbers… Anyways, I don’t **really** think that…”

“You do not have to ensure me that you do not support people being murdered, Remus. I have met you.”

“—I just… I suppose, I was deluding myself that it’s only interest – an unhealthy one, but interest nevertheless. Though… I probably shouldn’t count on people to see me as human now, when for so long they’ve been hearing I’m not one – which was just what most believed already, if never officially so... So it shouldn’t come to me as a surprise that they crowd around like they’re in a zoo—but I don’t – I don’t—“

“—You do not feel very human then.” Severus finished for him. The silky fabric of his voice wrapped Remus soothingly, as he added, “Does not change the fact that you are—” twisting a lock of Remus’ hair around his finger. “However… you know that it’s going to be this way, right? The stares and whispers?” The question was strangely tentative for him and soon enough Remus was provided with the reason why, “—especially if I am around.”

He almost chuckled at Severus’ concern, though he managed to stifle that for the sake of not offending him. “I’m really not new in the ‘will they scare you off, because you scare them’ game, Severus. I got unused to it, so it just bugged me today, that’s all. I agree that the whole—“ he made quotation marks in the air, “— ‘controversy’ thing will make it worse for a while, especially now that we’ve become celebrities of sorts, though… you know – I’ll take that if it means I’ll have you around.”

Scarlet rose up Severus’ neck, engulfing his cheeks, then subsided just as quickly, so must have forcibly dammed its current, if a bit belatedly. Remus spared him any comments on that, but found his hand resting against the fabric of their blanket and covered its rough-skinned back with his palm.

“—Besides… they’ll forget soon enough.” 

A crow from the nearest field flew by, hovering low above them – maybe in an effort to investigate the hooting noises Teddy was causing with his toy. Another bird followed suit and Teddy clapped upon noticing them, crossing the air like huge black bullets. The plush owl fell out of his grip as he watched the real birds. Severus put the fallen toy back into Teddy’s hands, then picked yet another flower for him to play with. Remus had a strong hunch the poor owl was going to end up reddened by the sap or blackened by the pollen, but it kept Teddy pleasantly occupied.

“Forget, you say?” Severus asked, as Remus settled back into his previous position again, wallowing in the feeling of the warm cotton creasing against his nape. “When did the public last forget something—“

“Then it’ll be returning in waves. And so what? Are we supposed not to live because we’re hated?” Remus felt his cheeks fill with heat, much fierier than the faintly blowing wind should have allowed.

Teddy moved his poppy-red head from over the plushie and from his greying eyes Remus realised he must have raised his voice, so he continued in a deliberately mellowed one, “Honestly, that’s practically what I’ve been doing for my whole blo…undering life and I’m fed up with it. And it didn’t help, did it? Hiding brought nothing but being pushed deeper into the dark, into hiding, into bl-ubbering caves, like you’ve told me about. So – even if it does make me feel like an oddity at times – I’m not going to let anybody do that to me—to us—anymore.”

Severus looked at him softly and yet the words he uttered cut through the carefully knitted cloth of Remus’ calm like a knife. “But don’t you think Riddle would have almost done us both a favour by—“

“No. Don’t even say that.” Remus protested fiercely, jumping upwards and almost colliding with Severus, who had leaned down to him. Since they were already at a convenient distance for that, Remus placed a brief kiss on his cheek. “I am mad at so, so many things and cut-up by others, but then I’m also grateful, because we’re alive and we’re okay – or we’re going to be, at least—“ he corrected himself, keeping in mind what Severus had just indirectly confessed to. “And I don’t think that, deep down, you think that either. You’ve stuck around for too long when there was no hope to want to pass on it when it’s here – when you’ve got us.” Finishing his last sentence, Remus pulled Teddy in towards the two of them, tickling him yet again.

Severus made use of the pause, taking his time to respond. Remus supposed he was probably deliberating on whether he should make any declarations himself. Maybe he wasn’t hesitant about _loving_ him and Teddy (Remus trusted), but then there was everything that came with it – _the surprising tediousness of having something worth caring for._ That, Remus knew, was not something easily decided on, and Severus was likely to have understood Remus’ promise for what it actually was, so he would pay similar attention to his own one.

Fortunately, neither of them had ever been one for giving up easily.

When the answer finally came, Remus wasn’t disappointed by it. “And you two have me.” In the midst of giggling and hooting, Severus’ whisper was barely audible and Remus once again blessed his oversensitive ears. “And yes… perhaps I don’t think that. Or I no longer believe that to be correct, at least.”

“That’s good—” Remus replied, running his fingers through Severus’ hair and leaning to his ear, “—because there **is** hope you know.” He kissed him on the lips this time, very briefly, considering how Teddy had just decided he needed the support of his dad’s arm to scramble back up to his feet. “On the note of hope – I’ve accepted Minerva’s job offer. I’m going back to teaching—“ Remus then announced, for a change sitting with his head in the hollow of Severus’ shoulder instead of laying down.

“Great. I know I am well past the time I should have told you that, but you were fairly competent as a teacher, if a little too focused on making the kids ‘enjoy themselves’.” Severus admitted, putting his arm around Remus’ back.

“Oh thank you… Yes, the students sincerely liking the lesson is the worst…” Remus smiled with irony. Seeing as Severus was already opening his smirking mouth to debate him, he added, “I know, I know, work and play shouldn’t mix and whatnot. You’re not the only one telling me that – even Minerva calls me ‘too lax’. Although, actually, as for competent teachers – she also told me she’d invited you to come back as well and you ‘refused so strongly she was surprised the letter was not a howler’. Why?”

“Let’s see… the noise, the attention, the pressure, the draining idiocy of students—“ Severus began listing. “Do I have to go on?”

“Right, sorry I asked.” Remus backed down, wrestling his wand, which must have slid out of his pocket, from Teddy’s grasp. “Nothing to do with how you’ve given up on your House as a whole?”

Severus tilted his head to Remus, the smirk wiped away in favour of the deadpan, though his eyes were still glimmering joyfully in their blackness. “Everything to do with that, but why?”

“Nothing—“ Remus said, watching Teddy get up from the cape once again. “—well, something, maybe, though I’m not supposed to tell you—“

“Do not do so, then.” The askew smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared before. “You are absolutely terrific at secret keeping, I see.”

“Only when the secrets aren’t too serious, but yes, I’m well aware—“ Remus broke off abruptly. He caught Teddy in his arms right before the toddler could have bolted after a crow, which had just landed close to them.

Remus put the kid onto his lap and held him tightly while the startled bird darted up into the air again. Teddy tried to wriggle out of the embrace, but to no avail.

“Well then, you’re going to find out soon anyways. And I think someone’s getting bored—“ Remus remarked, letting go of Teddy, then moved to stand up.

“I can see that.” Severus agreed, getting up as well.

As Remus put the toy away and led Teddy to the side to let Severus take his cape back, he assessed the greying sky. “It seems we may make it before the storm after all—“

“Almost as if you two had been scheming against me…” Severus said, shooting him and Teddy a glare of mock-reproach from over the ground. He was folding his cape instead of putting it back on, clearly having decided that with the way the air was saturated with heat it was a bit too warm even for him.

“Always.” Remus replied jokingly.

Maybe Remus had simply imagined that, but for a second Severus’ face tensed. The expression quickly brightened back into a smile. It was the sincere one, symmetrical and spanning up to the replete voids of his eyes; the one that made Teddy laugh, which he did now, cheeringly relentless in that today.

Remus smiled back, squeezing Teddy’s hand when Severus reached for his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My 'last words' regarding the fic itself are in the end note below. I wish I could just end with those, but, unfortunately, the political situation in my homeland is quite dire at the moment and I feel obliged to share a few words about it:
> 
> The top court (so a government body that isn't elected by the people) has recently ruled abortions in case of foetal malformations (the fatal ones too!) unconstitutional. Moreover, that ruling has passed right now, in the middle of the pandemic, purposefully making it much harder for the people to protest it. The law regarding abortions has already been very strict in Poland and this change practically bans most of the ones that ever happen here, thus forcing women to give birth to babies that will die literal five minutes after birth and so on. If you want to read more about that, [ here you go ](https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-54642108). And if you'd like to help the case, [ here's the link to a fundraiser for an organisation that helps women in need of this procedure. ](https://zrzutka.pl/en/kasa-na-aborcyjny-dream-team) They do accept foreign transfers and I'm sure every penny willl be of use, considering how the situation looks for women here in Poland right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> To sweeten the fact that this fic has just reached its inevitable end, here's a lovely picture by banana.ge.ge (you should check out her other work, by the way). Although the author originally intended it as one depicting Severus with de-aged Albus, it fits beautifully with my concept of Teddy (even the blue eyes! and the Remus-like chequered pants!) and she agreed to let me use it that way, so here it is: [ Severus and Teddy ](https://banana-ge-ge.tumblr.com/post/177268367616/2018-severus-snape-writing-drawing-fest).  
>  It feels surreal that I've finished this fic, but hey, it's not like this will be the last thing I write (I sure hope so, at least). Marie Kondo's methods aside, I hope this has sparked as much joy in you as it did in me during writing and I wanted to thank all of you for reading and accompanying me on this ride!
> 
> Speaking of surreal things - this fic has earned itself a **fanart**! From the wonderful @mjlplace: [amazing stuff](https://mjlplace.tumblr.com/image/641312071593639936). 
> 
> Your thoughts and opinions are always welcome!


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